


My Mind, The Tragedy

by runningwithstars



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: (excluding sadness previous to the story beginning), Abby is a major bitch, Angst, Anya Lives, Badass Anya, Badass Clarke, Badass Lexa, Clanya Brotp, Depression/Anxiety, F/F, Heavy - Freeform, I can be graphic with the violence at times, Lexa Lives, Lincoln Lives, Lot's of violence, Multi, Panic Attack, Raven Lives with much less torture then canon, Sadness, She was good but then she was bad, Violence, intrusive thinking, it will be very angsty, mamabear!anya, maybe slow burn I'm not sure how patient I am, self starvation, some big issues in here, this fic is an outlet for all my negative emotions, very angsty, will be a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwithstars/pseuds/runningwithstars
Summary: Clarke had never wanted for anything. She had known what her parents had been. Had known about Skaikru. She also knew her dad wanted her to be Trikru. Wanted her to walk a path that although bloody, had honor.Her Mother wanted her to become Wanheda.Sometimes, when all she could remember was the coppery smell of blood, all she could feel was the slippery slick feeling of it coating her hands, Clarke wonders.She wonders if her Mother won.----After a summer where Clarke lost everyone she loved to vicious politics and her power hungry mother she is more than relieved to escape to college. But the escape doesn't stop her from screaming when she sleeps and it doesn't fix her mutilated, scarred body.It doesn't stop her from falling for a girl with the most beautiful green eyes.---The destructivley beautiful meeting of Wanheda and Heda.





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke took a couple of big breaths as she pushed her way into the hall that her dorm room was located. It had been a difficult summer and she wasn’t sure how she was going to cope with the new workload.

 

The thing that truly concerned her though? Her roommates.

 

She had been very late with her applications for a room and was suffering as a result. She had been put in one of the last beds available, in a triple room with two complete strangers.

 

She had already devised a plan where she could just sleep when they were both out at lessons or something and then study at night. She finally reached her room, 821. Her lungs constricted for a second and the breath shuddered in her chest as she pushed the door open.

  
She was enormously relieved to discover that although the bunk beds had a few unpacked suitcases near them, the room was surprisingly vacant. She wondered who the others were, then firmly told herself she didn’t care.

 

Clarke was going to get through this first year on her own. Relying on people would get her nowhere.

 

Relieved to have access to the single bed by the left wall, she made her way over. The room was surprisingly large but very cramped, with three desks and two sets of draws. Clarke’s draws were under bed, making it a bit higher off the ground.

 

Her hands were trembling with nerves. She knew logically that her roommates would be back soon but just wished that they wouldn’t be. She didn’t want to meet anyone new.

 

She had just hung up her corkboard and made her bed up with plain black sheets and a black quilt when the door swung open with a bang. The noise instantly made everything inside Clarke clench; loud noises were _bad._ She clenched her jaw and nervously fidgeted with her collar and sleeves, not turning around as she tried to make sure as much skin was covered as possible.

 

There was a moment of silence and she knew she was being examined. She turned her attention back to her bead. The only colour was a white throw and three sky blue pillows. Putting on a façade of calm she began to put away her clothes.

 

She heard a snort behind her and heavy footsteps stomping across the room, raising the hair on the back of her neck as they settled directly across form her. She assumed they were leaning against the bunk when she heard the door swing shut and someone else moved into the room.

 

She could barely resist the temptation to groan aloud. _They were both here._

They began to speak in a language that took Clarke’s brain a shamefully long time to decode.

_Trigedaslang._

Holy shit. That meant they were probably Trikru.

 

She only knew the language because of her father’s insistence. His best friend Nyko had been visiting and had made the deal of teaching her how to be a healer in the Trikru fashion if she agreed to learn and speak with him in his native tongue.

 

Before the summer began, before her Dad-

_God, her dad._

__

She swallowed and continued to unpack. She had been so close. Nyko had finished her training and begun her initiation. She was finally going to leave the wanderers, the _murderers_ , but her mother had different ideas.

 

_Chancellor._

She though of the complete tattoo on her bicep, the one that she had gotten done by Nyko’s hand with a hammer, a needle and ink. Then she remembered the half finished tattoo in between her shoulder blades, the one that would have marked her as Trikru. Her mother had burst in with guards and guns and put an end to that. She still wondered if Nyko, a man who had been almost a second father to her, had survived. She wondered how he would feel about her having to cover both tattoos with heavy duty makeup at all times.

 

Clarke finally tuned in on their conversation.

 

 _“Leksa, our roommate is a bit shy, isn’t she,”_ After she had translated she forced herself to keep unpacking, pretending she didn’t understand.

 

She reached to straighten a pillow and winced when she saw the edge of a jagged scar peeking out from her sleeve.

 

_Glass, everywhere. It was like watching the rain turn sharp._

 

 _“I’m sure she’ll come out of her shell eventually, Onya,”_ Lexa’s voice had a nice, soft cadence to it, underlined with authority.

 

 _Not likely,_ Clarke thought, bitter.

 

She finished unpacking and zipped her suitcase closed, tucking it into the only left over space underneath her bed.

 

She had to keep a low profile. Kane had only _just_ been able to convince her mother that she would be a higher asset to them if she were a properly trained doctor, so here she was.

 

Polaris University.

 

She hadn’t moved for about a minute when a sudden movement startled her. One of the girls, the one that seemed to move silently despite the heavy boots, had moved away from the bunk and was crouching next to her.

 

“Hello, little dove,” Her voice had an interesting lilt to it, yet was still deep and somewhat husky.

 

Sun lightened honey blonde hair tumbled over her shoulder, tickling Clarke’s cheek. Almond shaped eyes narrowed in on her face thoughtfully and her breath caught in her throat. She’d forgotten the Trikru’s lack of regard for personal space. They were still reserved and close to emotionless with strangers, though.

 

But when you got close to them… She had often mistaken pairs of Trikru friends for lovers with how intimate they all were.

 

A single, perfectly manicured eyebrow ticked up at Clarke’s lack of response.

 

Clarke flushed and forced herself to stutter out, “Hello.”

 

Anya smirked a bit.

                                                                                             

“My name is Anya, and this here is my friend Lexa,” Clarke bit her tongue as to not reveal that she already knew their names.

  
Them not knowing that she knew their language was an advantage for her.

  
After all, it was no secret that Wanheda had tried to abscond and flee to the Trikru, even if her identity was.

 

 _Wanheda._ The name left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her father had named her Clarke… Her mother had named her Wanheda.

 

She once again remembered that the woman in front of her was waiting patiently for a name. She had a slight air of agitation, but at the moment she didn’t seem threatening. She looked like the tough but quiet type.

 

Clarke could handle that. She liked quiet.

 

“My name is Clarke,” She breathed softly.

 

“I’m an Ancient History major with a minor in Battle Tactics. Lexa is a double major of Business and Criminology,” It was a statement but obviously a question.

 

Clarke looked down, not wanting to gaze into those hard brown eyes any more.

 

_This is obviously an interrogation. Maybe these two are important to Trikru. I have to keep up the cover. They might see Wanheda as a threat, or spy on me for my mother. They have been attempting at an alliance._

But then, Trikru had been willing to welcome Clarke with open arms. She was already quite the accomplished healer and not many of their youths had wished to spend their time learning to fix instead of break.

 

Firm fingers gripped her chin, pushing her head up. She jerked back but Anya wasn’t fazed in the slightest. That damned eyebrow ticked up again and Clarke decided that the sooner she had herself played off as an innocent, quiet young girl in Anya’s mind the sooner she could go back to settling in.

 

“I’m a pre-med major with a minor in visual art.” Anya nodded once, firmly.

 

“ _Let her be now, Anya.”_ Another voice called from the other side of the room, and Clarke forced confusion into her eyes as she turned to face the girl, Anya’s hand falling away from her chin.

 

Clarke felt the breath leaver her in a whoosh. Her lips parted slightly as she looked at the goddess in front of her.

 

She had traditional Trikru braids, much like the blonde did, though of course their war paint was missing. Her plump pink lips were set into a sharp face with a killer jawline and strong nose. Dark green eyes watched her with a wary but curious expression, and she exuded a cold sense of power. It was so different to the natural hostility Anya seemed to put off.

 

Her body was all hard muscles and long limbs, much like Anya’s. Clarkes gaze was met evenly, and she earned herself a tight-lipped smile from the beautiful girl.

 

She had forgotten about Anya until she spoke again.

 

 _“Sha, Leksa,”_ There was a smile in Anya’s voice, but when Clarke turned around her face was as blank as a slate.

 

Anya stood in one swift motion and Clarke took in her attire. Heavy boots (how did she move so softly?), tight, ripped jeans, and a thick dark brown coat with a large, fur-lined hood.

 

Clarke swallowed harshly and got to her feet, ignoring the way Anya affectionately brushed her shoulder against Lexa’s before continuing to climb up to the top bunk. Without looking Lexa passed up a book for her and Anya settled in to her blankets.

 

Lexa caught her looking and raised an eyebrow. Now, Clarke might be easily startled and a bit unstable after the summer, but the blatant challenge in Lexa’s eyes had her pausing. She returned the gaze, not feeling nearly as confident as she looked.

 

_You are Wanheda. You have faced much, much worse the some Trikru girl._

A bang outside startled her into looking away and her hand flew up to her throat, ready to feel a chain digging in to the soft flesh there. She ignored Lexa’s curious glance and crawled on top of her own bed, digging a book out of her backpack.

 

It was a very old and weathered version of Little Princess. Her father had always read it to her.

 

She heard Lexa scoff, and then Anya spoke.

 

 _“Looks like the Little Dove is here to stay for a while,”_ Clarke fought to keep her expression neutral.

 

“ _So she is,_ ” Lexa agreed.

 

“Not going to orientation, little dove?” Anya called out.

 

Clarke shuddered.

 

“No.” She never once removed her gaze from her book.

 

 _“She’s so easily frightened,”_ Anya mused.

 

Clarke wasn’t scared. She was broken, plain and simple. Of course, she said nothing.

 

 _“Onya. No. She is not your toy or project,”_ Lexa sounded slightly exasperated and Clarke had to fight not to stiffen at the words.

 

“Beja, Leksa, I am smarter then to think that,” Anya laughed out loud, switching back to English.

 

Both Lexa and Anya knew she was doing it to try and put Clarke at ease. Of course, it was unnecessary. And it’s not like anything would truly relieve the tension in Clarke’s body. Not for a long time, anyway.

 

Lexa and Anya lapsed into silence and Clarke relished in it, the knot in her stomach easing a bit. It seems she had gotten lucky with her roommates, despite having to be extra cautious about her identity now.

  
_At least I don’t have a Skaikru tattoo to worry about. Dad saved me from that one._ But he hadn’t been there to stop the almost tribal tattoo on her rib cage that marked her as Wanheda, nor had he been able to save her from the multiple scars crisscrossing over her body.

 

Before Clarke could vanish into her memories and the sensation of falling, or linger on the mental image of her father’s face, seconds before he died, she turned the page of her book.

 

With more effort then she would like to admit, Clarke delved back into the fictional world of the heiress turned orphan.

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

“Little Dove,” A soft voice crooned in her ear.

  
She ignored it, finding no malice in the tone. But it insistently called after her until she groggily opened her eyes. The voice was gentler then even her mothers had been before her election as counsellor. She blinked a couple times, and rubbed her eyes. Focusing her gaze, she was surprised to find Anya’s face inches from her own, Lexa standing near Anya’s shoulder.

 

_Fucking Trikru need to understand personal space._

 

She blinked again and any tenderness she thought she had seen in Anya’s gaze disappeared. She did notice that her book had been carefully placed on the floor next to her bed, the page marked with a scrap of paper. She filed away the kind deed for later even though she hated owing anyone anything.

 

Clarke looked at Anya again and the reality of the situation kicked in. She couldn’t believe she had been so dumb to fall asleep like that. Not only were they Trikru and most likely proficient fighters, but she could have… she could have…

  
Clarke cut off that train of thought.

 

_I didn’t. It’s fine. They didn’t see me weak._

Instead of coming up with a normal response, Clarke croaked out, “Why the hell am I awake?”

 

Anya barked out a short laugh, finally shifting away from her.

 

“We have to go down to the dining hall.” Clarke groaned quietly and rolled over in her bed, avoiding the vibrant pairs of eyes watching her.

 

The artist in her shrieked in delight at how those eyes stood out against the dark eye shadow and eye liner, but she shut that down quickly. She would not be distracted from her goal by anything, let alone something _pretty._

Clarke did not believe in pretty things.

 

“C’mon. We have to watch the mandatory videos. I really don’t want the RA breathing down our neck so early on in the semester, yeah?” Anya’s hand touched her shoulder and Clarke jumped half a foot.

She instantly cursed herself when she saw the equal looks of surprise on both of the girl’s faces as she scrambled to put her back to the wall. Before, when Anya had grabbed her face, it had been different. She had… sensed that coming.

 

This took her completely by surprise and was on her back nonetheless. She hated being touched in general, but the sensation of hands on her back was something it would take her a long time to like again.

 

Not that she didn’t want to like it. She used to love being touched. Being safe and included. Her dad and Nyko were the best at that. Nyko, so bold and so quiet in public became so loving and comforting when in private. Many of their lessons had ended up with Clarke asleep on his shoulder after he told her stories of his people. He’d always carried her to her father, who in turn carried her to her bed.

 

She shook the memories off and turned to the two women watching her.

 

“Sorry… You startled me,” Her voice was hoarse.

 

“That’s ok. We’re leaving. Make sure you get down there on time,” Anya stood up, brushing her hands off.

 

Clarke nodded and watched them leave, eyes lingering on the brunette whose cool gaze seemed to be burned into her memory.

 

The door swung shut softly behind them and Clarke finally had a chance to catch her breath.

 

She didn’t want to go to dinner. She really, really didn’t want to. She didn’t feel like eating. She’d been forced to eat over the summer… but that was summer.

 

With a groan she ripped herself out of bed, picking up the discarded book ad laying it over the covers. She staggered to the door; glad she hadn’t had the foresight to remove her shoes before her impromptu nap and made her way into the hall, locking the door behind her.

 

Clarke headed wearily to the elevator; glad she was late enough that no one else was around. She subconsciously tugged on the long sleeves of her shirt and tried to adjust the collar in the shiny reflective material of the elevator. It was probably still too hot for long sleeves but she didn’t really care.

 

She walked quietly into the eating hall, where a projector had been set up and the food was being doled out. She blanched a bit. She didn’t want to eat the cafeteria food anymore than she did any other food. She would though if only to keep up appearances.

 

She moved to sit at an empty table in the corner of the room after acquiring a bowl of lumpy mac and cheese. She stirred it and gave it a disdainful look and shoveling some into her mouth. It might as well have tasted like ash.

 

She was startled when a girl in a clunky leg brace sat across from her.

 

“Hey. Name’s Raven,” The girl looked at her as she poked at her own mac and cheese.

 

Something about the girl intrigued Clarke, and she replied without needing prompting.

 

“Clarke,” She answered with a slight smile.

 

The girl across from her huffed and took her response as a sign to keep talking.

 

“Why dot hey even do these things anyway. As if we don’t know that leaving open flames unattended in dormitories is ‘unsafe’.” The girl complained.

 

Clarke smiled wider this time. “I think the point is that you _don’t_ have open flames in your dorm to begin with.”

 

The dark haired girl scoffed, “I’m an engineer. I live for open flames.”

 

Clarke shook her head and tried to hide her smile.

 

After that they received a scathing look from their RA since the presentation had begun, so they stopped talking. However, halfway through the presentation, Raven took her phone after prompting her to put in the password.

 

Clarke didn’t have to worry about her seeing anything she shouldn’t. Anything vital was encrypted.

 

In the end, it turns out Raven had just wanted to put her number in Clarke’s phone, and she even texted herself. She winked at the blonde as she handed her phone back and Clarke marveled at the brash girl’s confidence. Not that she could be mad. The girl’s easy disposition made her very likable and her smile was infectious.

 

When the seminar finally, finally ended, Clarke abandoned her half eaten mac and cheese and made her way out the room, sparing a second to wave goodbye at Raven.

 

After an uncomfortable elevator ride with six other people breathing up next to her, all of them tightly packed in, Clarke made her way slowly down the hall of her floor. She stopped in front of 821 and fumbled around for her key. Finally getting the door open she made her way in, not to surprised to see Anya and Lexa were already there.

 

They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bottom bunk, a laptop balanced between them. Clarke caught her breath as she clambered onto her bed, the girl’s beauty making her pause. With their faces illuminated by the screen they appeared almost unearthly. Clarke felt her fingers itch with the urge to draw. It had been a long time since she sketched anything other then a memory.

 

And they sat so close; so comfortable with each other. Clarke felt a pang of envy. She hadn’t had that kind of friendship with anyone since Octavia. But that was before the girl had absconded from Skaikru to join Trikru and be joined with the boy she loved. Clarke’s lip twitched up with the memory. The girl was wild in a way that would help her fit in with the Trikru. She wondered if Lexa and Anya knew her, or had heard of her. She peeked at the women again.

 

Clarke had to admit the girls were incredibly beautiful. She’d even go as far as to say they were attractive. Anya was all sharp lines, high cheekbones and narrowed dark eyes. Her expression easily carried over the threat of violence, her honey blonde hair with the dark roots accentuating her face perfectly. With it done in perfectly messy Trikru braids, Clarke found it pleasing. Her entire demeanour and stance dripped with indifference and appeal, and she had a dangerous, cold kind of beauty. It was not the beauty that won pageants but rather the kind that won wars. But underneath that hard exterior Clarke caught glimpses of concern and motherly affection, primarily when she gazed at Lexa.

 

And Lexa… God, her beauty was the kind that men and women would die for. If Anya was fighting in the war then Lexa was leading the army. She had a jawline sharp enough to cut stone and her green gaze was both intense and cold. But much like Anya, underneath the cold shell she hid in was a very passionate, fiery woman. A fighter. Lexa did not hide in the shadows that Clarke could tell. Her braids had a different pattern to Anya’s but were no less interesting. Her hair looked soft enough to touch.

 

When the council had found out Clarke liked girls it had been disastrous. Even if she had wanted to her mother couldn’t save her.

 

“Done staring, Little Dove?” Anya’s voice was teasing.

 

It had the desired effect. Clarke blushed and murmured an apology before turning around on her bed, switching her book light on. It was almost ten at night, and the other girls would probably want to switch the main light off soon.

 

Knowing she shouldn’t, she fished her sketchbook out of her backpack at the end of the day. She also retried her set of sketching pencils and her eraser, setting a sharpener nearby.

 

As she sketched the lines that would make Anya’s cheekbones and Lexa’s plush lips, she thought. Tomorrow she would have to ask the other two girls to put up their schedules by the door. That way she could figure out whens he would be able to sleep peacefully. Or, as peacefully as she could anyways,

 

Within an hour the base outline of the two girls sitting on the bed was done, and Clarke had angled herself so that her back was to the wall much like the Trikru women were. This way she could face them and take quick peaks without them seeing her sketchbook. She started the shading, getting the base shades down so she had a guide for later when the girls went to bed.

 

When Anya finally got up, stretching out like a cat would, Clarke acted on instinct. She inconspicuously turned the paged of her sketchbook, but instantly regretted it. There, in outstanding detail, was a drawing of Wells. She choked on the feelings rising up in her, drowning her.

 

God she missed him. She heard Anya move past her bed to the door, where she flicked the light off. Clarke swallowed her feelings and turned back to her current sketch when Anya had walked back to her bed. The only light left was her book light and the two girls phones. Lexa and Anya exchanged a soft goodnight in Trigedaslang before Lexa climbed up to the top bunk, with Anya crawling into her covers underneath.

 

Clarke sighed and got set into the shading. It was going to be a long night.

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

When morning finally rolled around, Clarke had completed not only the photorealistic drawing of Anya and Lexa but also a few others. She had two pages of detailed sketched of the two girls as well, and she sincerely hoped that they never saw them.

 

The last thing she had drawn had been the hardest.

 

_Charlotte._

Clarke didn’t know when she had finally forgiven the girl, but it had been a while ago. Forgetting her had been hopeless and last night Clarke had been inspired.

 

The photo depicted her in her last moments, before she jumped. The girl had been preserving her honour, her mother had said. Paying for her crimes.

 

Clarke had screamed at her that day.

 

_If not for Jaha’s -and your- stupid fucking politics she would never have killed Wells in the first place! And if you hadn’t put so much stress on honour in our fucking community Charlotte would still be alive._

Dr Abigail Griffin had ordered her daughter locked in a closet for three days with no food or water because of that.

 

 _You will learn,_ she had promised.

 

Clarke never had. In her entire existence she had never been prouder of anything then not learning whatever the hell it was her mother had wanted her to know. Anything from that woman’s mouth was poison. Anya rolled out of bed at about six somehow looking just as perfect as she had the night before. Clarke looked like a mess every time she got out of bed.

 

Anya moved and shook Lexa awake, mumbling about how they had to go on a run.

 

Clarke shook her head. It was to early for a run. She thought mournfully about the minimal fighting training she had received from Nyko. She was proficient with a gun, of course. She _had_ been raised as Skaikru. But her hand to hand would be nowhere near the skill level of these two girls.

 

Lexa grumbled but climbed down from the bed and Clarke sternly told herself that the view of tired Lexa was not at all adorable. Anya turned and finally seemed to notice Clarke.

 

“You been awake all night Little Dove?” Anya’s voice was curious and Clarke turned to a new page in her sketchbook.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Clarke replied, dodging the question.

 

“Bold in the daylight, hmm? You didn’t answer my question, by the way.” Anya would not be easily derailed.

 

Ignoring the jab and once again deflecting the question, Clarke asked, “When will you guys be back?”

 

“About an hour,” Lexa replied, shooting Anya a look.

 

It seemed to say, _leave it be._

Clarke was grateful.

 

“We should put our schedules on the back of the door so we know when everyone has class,” Clarke mentioned, never once looking away from the rapidly growing sketch.

 

“Why, you thinking of bringing someone back, Little Dove?” Anya’s voice was snarky.

 

“No,” Clarke deadpanned.

 

Before Anya could say anything, Lexa broke in again. “Don’t worry about it, Clarke. We will.”

 

“Thanks,” Clarke shot her a quick look before returning to her sketch.

 

Six _Azgeda_ corpses littered the page. Dead by Clarke’s hand. Dead by _Wanheda’s_ hand. Not her first kills, but certainly not her last.

 

Sure, they had been trying to kill her and her friends. But there blood was still on her hands. That incident had been carefully orchestrated by the council- by Clarke’s mother- to spark the legend of Wanheda.

 

Lexa moved into their tiny adjoining bathroom to change but Anya simply stripped in the middle of the room. To be fair, she only stripped down to her panties, though she did discard her bra. Also, her back was to Clarke so it wasn’t that bad. Although Clarke would be lying if she said she didn’t steal a glance at the well muscled back. In the centre of her shoulder blades was the tattoo that marked her as Trikru, whole and complete. It was a stark contrast to Clarkes own.

 

Other tattoos wrapped around her ribs and hips, ones Clarke didn’t understand the meaning of. When Anya had pulled on a sports bra and a pair of running shorts she began to turn and Clarke looked away.

 

Now facing Clarke she laced up her runners and brushed her hair back into a rough ponytail, not even wincing when the combs caught on the braids in her hair. She fished out a makeup wipe and began to roughly rub at her face.

 

Lexa entered the room, clean faced and properly attired for exercise. Clarke bit her lip hard at the sight of the girl in a sports bra and leggings before looking away, not taking the time to process the girl’s tattoos. She completely missed Anya’s knowing gaze before the lean woman moved into the bathroom.

 

Lexa’s hair had somehow been winded up into a tight bun and Clarke thought it was a shame. Lexa had beautiful hair.

 

The green-eyed girl pulled on a loose running shirt that Clarke secretly thought was a let down as well. Clarke finally caught a glimpse of the girl’s bicep tattoo, and curiously wondered what it meant. When Anya strutted back into the room she wore a tight singlet. Clarke wondered why they bothered to cover up with bodies like that.

 

_Maybe they are hiding their tattoos? But then, why bother when almost no one can recognize the different tattoos of the clans? Except for Azgeda but that’s because they’re dumb and too public._

Clarke filed the information away for later and gave a half hearted wave goodbye to the girls when they left.

 

Her exhaustion finally caught up to her and the knowledge that she could sleep almost had her crying in relief. She would have to face her fears in her sleep, but at least she could rest.

 

Clarke crawled under the covers after setting an alarm for fifty minutes from now. She might not even be asleep for long enough for a nightmare to happen.

 

Her head had barely touched the pillow when sleep overtook her.

 

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

_Rotting, dead fingers clawed at Clarke’s feet as she ran. Everywhere she looked she saw faces of the dead she had left behind. Whether they were killed in self defence, or in her name, or by her own two hands it didn’t matter._

_As she ran, she tried to explain. “The council used me! I had no choice! Azgeda would have killed the 100 initiates if I didn’t do it!”_

_In the distance she saw a woman sobbing over an Azgeda soldiers corpse. He was following orders, Clarke knew._

_It wasn’t personal. He was following orders. He was supporting his family._

_And Clarke killed him._

_Clarke looked down and saw her hands were dripping blood. It was slick and hot and suddenly the ground became wet with it. The reaching hands began to find purchase and she fell. Oh god, oh god. The smell of dead flesh hit her nose and the sound of gunfire popped in her ears. She heard the soft sound of a blade digging into flesh and wanted to vomit. She could feel the acid bubbling up her throat, burning her, drowning her._

_The hands were so, so insistent. They were going to drag her under, deep into the ground. Their revenge. Their justice. Her heart beat so fast and she was screaming, screaming-_

A blaring alarm pulled Clarke from the nightmare and she shot up in bed, glad the pillow had muffled any noise she would have made. She had nine minutes until the two women were expected back. She moved into the tiny adjacent bathroom and blearily turned on the water after undressing.

 

The sensation of cool water washing sticky sweat and smeared tears off of her was a relief. When she could breathe normally she made her way out of the shower. Clarke refused to look in the mirror. She knew what she would see. Multiple, jagged scars crisscrossing over her arms, back and thighs with a few wrapping around to her collarbone and hips. They still had that glistening pink appearance, most of them puffy.

 

She did finger an older scar along her stomach, almost white now. Before the first attempts of an alliance with Trikru, a fourteen-year-old Clarke had been assisting her mother who was the head field medic. She’d taken a blow meant for her mother.

 

But that was before Abby was elected chancellor. Before the most important woman in Clarke’s life became privy to the secrets of _Skaikru’s_ council. Before she learned of her husbands ‘treason’.

 

Clarke swallowed and towelled off before slipping into a fresh set of clothes and padding back into the room in bare feet. She dropped her towel onto the ground and began to make her bed. She glanced at her phone. It was 7:12. The girls were about five minutes late.

 

Once she had made her bed and hung the towel on one of the door hooks the door opened. The two girls padded in, sweaty and flushed. Clarke avoided looking at them.

 

In only a few seconds the door was shut and the girls were rough housing in the middle of the room. Clarke slipped past them to her bed, pulling out her sketchbook again. She was feeling a bit more energetic now that she had slept and bathed.

 

Lexa pushed Anya off of her and made her way into the shower. Anya chuckled and began to do some casual stretches. Clarke sat quietly for a while, roughly shading some sketches of the girls in their workout gear.

 

Lexa wandered out of the shower and Anya wandered in. Clarke ignored any curious glance and began a new page of drawings. This one seemed to only feature a pair of green eyes. She went to shade, but then her fingers itched for something more vibrant. Something to match the emotion in the beautiful Trikru girl. Something to capture that fire burning deep within.

 

With a soft sigh, Clarke pulled out the prismacolours she hadn’t touched in so long.

 

She still had a bit of time before she needed to actually get ready for the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy Chapter. Self Starvation Warning.

**Chapter 2**

Clarke moved into her room like a zombie. In the last week, she had gotten perhaps a total of 20 hours of sleep, averaging three hours a night. It wasn’t enough, she knew. But it was all she could get, sneaking in a few hours whenever the girls were out.

 

She avoided their slightly concerned looks and knelt on her bed, dropping her backpack on the floor. She quickly added a note to her corkboard to write her draft for biology and to start her pre-sketches for art.

 

Her stomach growled but she ignored it. Sometimes she fancied the thought that if she just let herself starve to death her mother would never have control over her again.

 

But Clarke didn’t want to die, not really. She just didn’t want to live like this.

 

She had no classes for the rest of the day and the girls were scheduled to go the gym soon. She would have slept then but the dorm hall was so loud at 1PM for whatever reason, making sleep difficult. Even with how exhausted she was.

 

She blearily glanced at her watch. Twelve thirty. She stretched and felt her joints popping. It had been a while since she exercised or trained. Clarke wasn’t an excellent fighter even if she knew the basics. Hand to hand was something she would have become proficient in if she had joined Trikru. At the moment her gun skills were excellent, though.

 

She thought longingly of Nyko’s promise to teach her how to knife fight before banishing his smiling face.

 

She didn’t understand how the two women could do both the gym and a run every day.

 

But she desperately needed the exercise. And maybe if she worked out enough, not only would she build back the muscle that had wasted away in summer, but she might just become exhausted enough to sleep without nightmares.

 

So summoning all of her courage, she decided to call out to Anya.

 

She chose Anya because they had had the most interactions and that made her slightly less intimidating to talk to.

 

Deliberately ignoring the quaver in her voice she said, “Hey Anya?”

 

Anya rolled over in her bed to face Clarke, setting down her phone. A hint of surprise was evident in her eyes. After all, Clarke never initiated contact between herself and her roommates.

 

“Yes, Little Dove?” Her voice was soft as if she didn’t want to scare Clarke away.

Clarke ignored the shot of indignation she felt at that. How had she let herself become so weak?

 

“Can I come with you and Lexa to the gym? I don’t know where any of the ones in the area are.” Her voice was a bit firmer this time.

 

However, all her bravado disappeared when Anya rose from her bed and strode over to her, climbing onto the bed and practically straddling her.

 

Clarke froze and swallowed, looking up into thoughtful brown eyes. There was nothing sexual or romantic about this.

 

No, Anya was a predator making sure her prey couldn’t escape.

 

Clarke swallowed harshly.

 

“Anya,” Lexa’s voice held a warning, easily traveling from where she was on the top bunk.

 

Anya ignored her.

 

“You can come with us, but I have a condition.” Anya’s voice was firm, and she held Clarke’s eyes in a staring contest he practically dared the blonde to lose.

 

Clarke’s lower lip trembled and she swallowed hard. She swore a flash of sympathy dashed across Anya’s face and she carefully wiped her face of emotions. She didn’t want pity.

 

Her voice barely more then a whisper, Clarke enquired, “What’s that.”

 

“You come with us after for a late lunch, and you eat an entire meal,” Clarke’s throat went dry.

 

How did Anya know she avoided meals? She had been so careful to hide her self-destructive habits from her roommates. Though it was hard to hide the no sleeping at night thing – her sketchbook was completely filled with memories and Anya, and Lexa and Lexa and Lexa.

 

“I’m not hungry,” The golden haired girl protested.

 

Anya was having none of it.

 

“You want to come, you eat. I’m not dealing with my roommate starving to death,” Her voice had bite to it and Clarke fought no to recoil.

 

“Anya,” The warning from Lexa was louder now and Clarke knew the brunette was watching intently.

 

Yet she didn’t seem opposed to the idea.

“I’m not hungry,” Clarke repeated weakly.

 

“Is it a weight thing? A money thing? Because you are definitely skinny enough and I can afford to buy you lunch,” Anya continued on, shifting on top of her slightly.

 

Clarke avoided thinking about how odd it was to have human contact again ad answered Anya truthfully.

 

“No, it’s neither of those things,” Clarke answered truthfully.

 

“I’m just not hungry,” Her excuse sounded weak now, she knew.

 

Anya’s hand moved to her ribcage and Clarke blanched a bit when she applied pressure. She hoped the dirty blonde couldn’t feel the large knife scar an Azgeda warrior had left there.

 

“I can feel all of your ribs, Clarke. I have eyes. You’ve been here only a week and I don’t like watching a nice girl like yourself falling to pieces. You’ve been dropping weight and you never sleep.” Her voice was strong and Clarke flinched.

 

She didn’t want people to notice her. She didn’t want people to care.

 

The people she cared about _died._

Before she could reply Anya moved her hand up to Clarke’s forehead. She gently stroked the hair away from Clarke’s face. Clarke softened slightly at such an affectionate gesture.

 

She’s sure she heard Lexa mutter ‘fucking mothering instincts’ from her bed but she didn’t dwell on it.

 

“Why are you doing this? You’re hurting yourself, Little Dove,” Anya’s voice was gentle.

 

However, it didn’t stop Clarke from feeling a burst of inexplicable rage. She sat up suddenly, making Anya fall off of her.

 

“Why do you care? We’ve barely known each other a week!” Clarke spat.

 

In her anger, she didn’t even notice that both girls had reached for hidden weapons, startled by the sudden movement and anger.

 

“Why does it matter why I care? I have family, sisters, cousins, the whole lot, Clarke. I like to think someone would do the same for them as I’m trying to do for you, if they needed it.” Anya’s answer was calm but tinged with anger.

 

“Well, I don’t need you help. I’m fine,” She moved slightly and Anya got the memo, slipping off of Clarke’s bed gracefully.

 

“Just come with us, Clarke,” Her voice was gentle again, and Clarke almost missed her calling her ‘Little Dove’.

 

Almost.

 

“No. Forget I fucking asked.” Her voice was bitter and she turned around to push her face into the pillows, not willing to meet Anya’s eyes.

 

She heard both girls sigh.

 

“Okay, Little Dove.” The nickname unleashed something inside her.

 

Something dangerous and torrential, all sweeping waters and murky depths she might just drown in. She buried her head deeper into the soft pillows.

 

When the girls were on their way out, she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder that was far more intimate then any of Anya’s touched had been.

 

Lexa’s soft voice haunted her long after she left.

 

“Have a nice day, Clarke.”

 

The way she clicked the ‘k’ made Clarke feel something she wanted to avoid.

 

She thought back to the way she had treated Anya and realised she would never have friends again. She couldn’t handle people _caring._

She turned her face into the pillow again and _sobbed_ for everything she had lost.

 

Wanheda didn’t cry.

 

Clarke did.

 

_-_-_-_-_ 

When they got back, Anya wordlessly left a wrapped subway on Clarke’s bed. Despite the guilt she felt Clarke threw it in the bin and didn’t eat that day. The easy silence she had been sharing with her roommates had become a tense time bomb and she cursed herself for ever having opened her mouth.

 

Bitterly, Clarke stopped eating all together. Some cynical, dark part of her was trying to prove to Anya – to Lexa- that she wasn’t weak. That she didn’t need help.

 

On the second day without food, the subway Anya left had a note.

 

_It’s been two days – Anya._

Clarke still threw it in the trash.

 

On the third day there was another note.

 

_Three days- Anya._

_Please eat, Clarke – Lexa._

 

Her resolve wavered at both Anya’s persistence and Lexa’s loopy handwriting, so unlike her stern personality.

 

Still, she threw it away.

 

On the fourth day, she passed out for two minutes in the hall. Groaning she got up and was relieved to find no one had seen what happened.

 

Staggering into her dorm room and then the bathroom she looked in the mirror. Her cheeks were gaunt. She didn’t look like Clarke anymore.

 

Lifting her shirt she truly could see all her ribs. Her breast had shrunk a ridiculous amount and the dips in her hips were so prominent she almost looked like a skeleton.

 

Clarke thought she understood why Anya was so insistent. Her stomach _ached_ and her head was throbbing from where she had hit the floor earlier.

 

She also realised she was being an idiot. She _didn’t want to die._ The whole reason she had asked to go with them was to be strong. She might have been angry, but she wasn’t angry with Anya, not really. Anya was trying to help in that infuriating way of hers.

  
Clarke guessed that the girls had arrived after gym and then left for class. When she shuffled back into the room they weren’t there. She sighed as she spied the sub on her bed. There was no note this time.

 

_I’m already not sleeping. Why aren’t I eating?_

She had thought it was spite for her mother, spire for Anya and Lexa that had her starving. But really…

 

Maybe it was punishment. After all, if everyone else ached why didn’t she?

 

In her mind’s eye she saw faces. Wells. Her Dad. The Azgeda Men. The Trikru who had perished in the Ring Corp. fire her mother had started.

 

_Don’t go there. Don’t think about it. You couldn’t stop her._

Another voice argued _if you hadn’t been there she never would have done it. She wanted to make Wanheda rise from the ashes._

 _To bad,_ Clarke though, _that a Trikru survivor reported the truth to their Heda._

Of course, it still helped fuel the flames of Wanheda’s legend. After all, not only did she save twenty Trikru soldiers form the fire but also herself.

 

Wanheda had cheated death yet again.

 

She sighed and sank onto her bed, looking morosely at the sub.

 

_Grow up._

_Maybe if you’re strong you can beat your mother._

That- that was a dangerous thought. Clarke pushed it away and caught her breath.

 

_I will not fall. Not again. There will never be another Well’s. There will never be another Jake Griffin._

She reached out and unwrapped the sub, almost moaning when she sunk her teeth into it.

 

After four days of not eating anything (not exactly true, she had water crackers on the second day) the sub made her feel both instantly better and instantly sick.

 

She put the wrapper in the bin before lying on her bed, stretching out. It was to loud for her to sleep.

 

She knew from the summer spent underground that eating after not having food in so long would actually make her hungrier.

 

The thought of eating still made her sick but she needed to get stronger. She had to. Also, the sub had been an olive branch offered to her by the girls. Eating it had been accepting it.

 

Now she had to apologise.

 

 

_-_-_-_-_

 

Clarke had been lightly sketching when the two girls came back into the room. Her hand shook a bit and she didn’t want to look up at them.

_Apologise._

She knew the girls had noticed the sandwich when she heard Lexa’s sigh of relief. She also knew there was no escaping this conversation when Anya sat on the bed next to her and pulled the sketchbook out of her hands.

 

Clarke pulled her arms around her stomach, her chin sinking to her chest.

 

“Little Dove,” Anya started, and then stopped.

 

“Why?” She tried again.

 

Clarke shrugged miserably. She couldn’t explain that in the moment, in the moment she had been told what to do, when Anya had taken charge, her mind had flipped. Flipped to a time when her mother told her what to do, when to eat, how to dress.

 

Her spite, her anger had gotten the best of her and she had pushed away the people who cared for her because she knew that the only way left to _protect_ herself was to hurt herself. Hurt herself so badly no one else could hurt her anymore.

 

“Why do you care?” Her voice was soft and hoarse.

 

“You remind me of someone – someone I used to care for greatly.” Her voice was soft.

 

“A niece?” Clarke’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

 

“Yes,” She murmured.

 

“I’m sorry,” Wanheda didn’t cry.

  
Clarke cried. But Clarke didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be strong.

 

Frustrated, she dragged her sleeve over her eye and wiped away any moisture.

 

“That’s ok,” Anya breathed.

 

They didn’t touch but Clarke felt an odd kind of kinship with the woman she’d never felt before. She felt safe.

 

When the girl’s left again, Clarke tried as hard as she could not to focus on the feeling of Lexa’s fingers lightly touching her cheek. Tried.

 

The next day she went to the gym with them. And after, at a quaint little café, she ordered the pasta that Lexa recommended.

 

It wasn’t huge, but it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this might seem jilted, but it has a purpose. Clarke is developing a relationship with both girls. 
> 
> She may seem closer to Anya but that's because Anya has a protective instinct and can't leave Clarke to suffer. Her relationship with Lexa will bloom over time.
> 
> The self-starvation thing... Well we are uncovering facets of her personality that were created in the summer. I won't give much away. I just hope you understand the reason I wrote this (filler) chapter. We are also playing with Clarke's desire to hide and let herself just wither away fighting against Clarke's desire to be strong and protect/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attack. I've never experienced one to the extent that it happens in this chapter so I hope it's properly portrayed.

**Chapter 3**

 

Clarke’s friendship with the two Trikru girls was… odd. She wasn’t even sure if it could be called friendship. They spent time together at the gym and went out for lunch everyday. The girls pretended they couldn’t see that Clarke never slept and Clarke pretended she didn’t see all their scrapes and bruises from ‘Trikru Business’. Not that they knew that Clarke knew they were Trikru.

 

After all, the best way to keep a secret was to keep it close, right?

 

Clarke was fighting her way through an essay on metastasis when Anya called out, “We’re going to the library to study with some friends. Want to come, Little Dove?”

 

Clarke liked the nickname even though she would shoot herself in the foot before admitting it.

 

She chewed her lip. “Raven has been bugging me about coming…”

 

“Great,” Lexa said. “Grab your stuff.”

 

The brunette sashayed out the door and Clarke tried to avoid looking at her shapely legs when she did.

 

Blushing when she saw Anya’s know-it-all smirk, she surprised even herself when she rolled out of bed with her backpack in hand. She stuffed in her laptop and moved to the doorway where Anya was.

 

The older blonde was obviously holding back a smile and Clarke’s blush only intensified.

 

“What,” She mumbled, scratching the back of her neck.

 

“Nothing,” Anya’s voice was too cheery and Clarke huffed, bumping into her shoulder on the way out.

 

“I’ll get you back for that Little Dove,” She called out as Clarke strode purposefully down the hall to where Lexa was waiting by the elevator.

 

“Sure,” She called out behind her.

 

After that, the girls silently made their way down to the library. It was only a ten-minute walk. When Lexa’s hand brushed Clarke’s, Clarke blushed profusely and clasped her hands behind her back, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that had been left where Lexa’s fingers touched.

 

They both ignored Anya’s snort.

 

It wasn’t long before they were moving into the library. Clarke had to admit it was a gorgeous building, filled with antique shelving and a vaulted ceiling, light filtering through stained windows.

 

Apprehension made her shoulders bunch up as they moved closer to a table where the only recognizable person was Raven.

 

“Hei,” A tall boy with dark skin and a close-cropped Mohawk called.

 

“ _Hey, Lincoln. Miss Octavia yet?”_ Anya’s voice was low but Clarke detected a slight hint of teasing.

 

Although when Clarke sat down and processed the words she froze completely. Octavia. They knew Octavia.

 

_A lake in the middle of the woods. The sharp pain as a knife bit into her hand. Blood that practically glowed in the afternoon sun dripping down her and her best friends fingers. A firm handshake and then a hug and the being tackled to the ground._

_Octavia’s infectious grin as she declared, “We’re sisters now, Griffin. Forever.”_

Clarke shook herself out of the memory when Lincoln began to speak.

 

 _“She’ll be transferring here soon. I can’t wait,”_ Clarke’s breath caught.

 

Octavia.

 

She felt an ache in her soul that Octavia had left when she abandoned her.

 

She knew why she did it… But Clarke had never been able to shake the feeling of betrayal. Octavia had seen the path Clarke was being forced down by her mother and had left her to suffer alone. No one else would dare to befriend _Wanheda_ of those who knew she was and Clarke was kept away from anyone who didn’t know.

 

“Hey Clarke, you okay?” Raven asked.

 

It was enough to bring Clarke out of her dazed state. She managed a weak smile.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” She deflected.

 

“I wonder why,” Lexa murmured as she sat down next to her.

 

Clarke shot her a glare but didn’t say anything. It had become an unspoken rule that no one spoke about Clarke’s sleeping habits. Lexa shrugged as if to say, _you brought it up._

“Anyways, this is Murphy, he’s a shit but we love him and this is Miller. Over here we have Atom and in the far corner is the one and only Harper. Also, that stud is Lincoln.”

 

All of them gave a little wave or said hey before Raven continued. “Everyone, this is Clarke. You already know Lexa and Anya.”

 

They all chatted amicably for a while. Clarke had deduced that Lincoln was Trikru a while ago and was now trying to figure out if the others knew. She’d gotten the feeling that none of them did. The girls must have told them that Trigedaslang was just some made up language from when they were kids or something.

 

Content to watch, Clarke leant back. She couldn’t study in such a noisy atmosphere anyway. She automatically began assessing the weaknesses and strengths of everyone in the group. She hated herself for it but couldn’t stop. Anyone could be a threat. Anyone could be an enemy in disguise.

 

Nonetheless, she was surprised to find she was actually enjoying the company.

 

That was shattered when Murphy piped up, “So, Raven. You’re the head of gossip here… Anything new on those gangs that are always on the news?”

 

The three Trikru at the table stiffened but played it off. Clarke tried to contain her slight trembles. Lexa’s fingers brushed her thigh, and she didn’t know if it was deliberate or not but it felt… nice.

 

“Well,” Raven began, and Clarke forced herself to listen.

 

“On the side of Trikru, not much… They’re as secretive as always. Azgeda’s breaking things like usual, but I have heard a few juicy bits and pieces about Skaikru…” Her voice had taken on the qualities of an old storyteller and everyone found himself or herself leaning closer, even Clarke.

 

“Apparently, Wanheda’s old right-hand warrior-” Clarke stiffened, but Raven was interrupted by Harper.

 

“Wait, you mean the one who used to guard Wanheda’s back but then left her and ran off to Trikru?” Raven gave her a look.

 

“Yes, that one. Don’t interrupt.” No one noticed Clarke and the three Trikru at the table tensing up.

 

_A solid presence at her back amongst the chaos and gunfire. A knowledge that if she got out of this Octavia would be by her side. A bullet in her shoulder, the wound sealed closed by Octavia’s red-hot knife only ten minutes before. Helping the dark haired girl get into the chopper first._

 

Clarke’s fingers tightened on her pen.

“So, she’s apparently moved up through the Trikru ranks quite quickly. But what’s interesting it that Wanheda tried to abscond,” Raven’s voice was ominous.

 

“We heard there was something going on but no details,” Murphy broke in excitedly.

 

Raven seemingly allowed the interruption before continuing, “But wait, it gets even better. Wanheda tried to abscond to _Trikru._ They were ready to bring her into the fold.”

 

“Why?” Miller asked. “Everyone knows she Skaikru’s most dangerous asset. She’d be a risk to keep.”

 

“Hell if I know. But the treaty negotiations we heard about on the news last year apparently fell through.” Raven’s voice was matter of fact and Clarke loosed a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

 

She hadn’t known the treaty had fallen through.

 

“What I do know is that the Chancellor locked Wanheda up all summer and no one knows where they are now. Also,” Raven’s voice dropped, “She killed her husband, Wanheda’s father.”

 

Clarke felt as if she was in a cationic state.

 

_Blood, so much blood. Six holes in her father’s body. Rage. A rage so hot it burned her soul. She aimed her gun at the woman she once called mother and then, and then-_

_Glass rain. Clarke was flying, it felt like._

_It was beautiful._

_Her mother’s stylist did always say that pain was beauty._

Clarke bit her lip hard.

 

“The Chancellor sounds even colder then Azgeda’s queen,” Atom laughed nervously.

 

“Yeah, I know right. Still can’t believe she killed her husband and locked up her child. I wonder if we will ever find out who Wanheda truly is. No one even knows if it’s a boy or girl.” Miller piped in.

 

_It?_

“You guys all know these are just silly stories, right?” Lexa’s voice broke in, trying to deter them from the conversation.

 

Clarke couldn’t breathe.

 

_A dark room. A puddle of blood. Her blood? She was laying in it. It was sticky and rapidly cooling, and the scent of copper was everywhere. It spread out beneath her like a blanket. It seemed fitting. After all, Clarke had made her bed. And now she had to lie in it. That’s what her mother said. Clarke’s back ached and the cuffs on her arms chaffed, rubbing the skin raw._

Anya’s voice continued where Lexa’s left off, “Yeah guys. They’re gangs, not empires. Wanheda is probably just a character created for the press.”

 

“Believe what you want to believe, Anya.” Raven declared imperiously, getting a chuckle out of her audience.

 

“Besides,” Murphy continued, “If Wanheda _did_ exist, they’d be pretty fucked up by now. It’s hot gossip.”

 

There were a few murmurs of agreement and Clarke could feel a raging storm of anger and fear and despair rising inside of her.

 

“Whatever,” Raven said dismissively, “I’d feel bad for Wanheda if not for the fact they’re a psycho, cold-blooded murderer.”

 

Clarke’s pen snapped. She looked at the ink now coating her hand, slipping down her fingers. It was similar to the feeling of blood on her hands, slowly dripping off of her finger tips.

 

Clarke could feel the entire group’s eyes on her. The awkward silence that ensued was nothing unusual.

 

She forced her lips to move even as ice filled her veins, bitter and unforgiving. “Excuse me. I have somewhere to be.”

 

She gathered her things swiftly, dumped them into her backpack and strode off, tears rushing to her eyes.

 

_Cold blooded. Psycho. Murderer._

She blinked away the tears and turned blindly down the side of the nearest building. It seemed to be a dead end alley way and Clarke collapsed next to an air conditioner box. The hot, stinking air it was pushing out seemed to be a fitting punishment for her existence as it invaded her lungs and settled on her skin.

 

The air was ripping out of her lungs in short bursts. It hurt. God, it hurt so much. Knives in her lungs. There were knives in her lungs. Or maybe pins. A thousand little pins. They rattled with each breath and Clarke’s head seemed to ache, her eyes stinging from unshed tears.

 

God, why did breathing hurt _so much?_

 

_A cold gas. Clarke couldn’t see. She tried not to breath. She failed. Agony filled her as that gas entered her lungs. She felt to the floor, spasms wracking through her._

_“Just tell us who you’re Trikru contact was, Clarke. We know it wasn’t Nyko. We watched him to carefully, just like we did with Jake. Tell us and we’ll make it stop.”_

_Monty’s innocent eyes appeared in her mind’s eye and she welded her mouth shut. They’d communicated over messaging only. She knew who he was, but he’d never seen her._

_No, she couldn’t condemn him. More gas pumped into the room._

God, Clarke was dying. She was _dying._

Her mother had her. _I love you._

No, no, no, no-

 

_“You’re weak, Clarke. Wanheda cannot be weak.”_

 

Clarke shuddered and suddenly she could feel it. The blood. God, the blood.

 

_“Finn’s crime rests on your shoulders, Clarke. He did it because you ran off. Now Trikru wants him. He dies for you Clarke.”_

_She choked on her mother’s words. She knew about the old Trikru execution rituals. She knew Finn deserved it._

_The thought of that apprentice boy dying alone would haunt her to her last day on this god’s forsaken planet._

_Finn deserved it._

_But it was her fault._  
  


_She slipped into his cell that night, and her makeshift knife found his heart as easy as her mother had crushed hers._

_“Thanks, Princess.”_

A half-choked moan slipped out of her lips as she knocked her head hard enough against the wall behind her to make it start bleeding. It must have caught an edge.

 

Suddenly, the little bit of sun was blocked out by a mass of brown hair. Clark recoiled.

 

_Why was it so dark? It’s always so dark._

Strong hands forced Clarke’s to unclench, little streams of blood smearing on both of their hands from the cuts her nails had left.

 

“Clarke,” A voice called.

 

“No,” She gasped. “No.”

 

_Psycho. Murderer. Cold blooded._

 

The body moved to sit beside her and suddenly there was light again. She was sweating but she was so cold.

 

Finn was the only innocent she’d ever killed. But he wasn’t innocent, was he?

 

No, he was the only person Clarke had ever killed that hadn’t been trying to kill her first. Her mother tried, tried to make her kill unsuspecting guards or political opponents but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

 

That didn’t stop her mother from telling the world she did it anyway.

 

_God._

 

Her back arched slight and she knew she must look like a fish out of water, gasping for breath, _but she couldn’t breathe._

And then strong arms were around her waist and a sweet scented sweater muffled her soft cries.

 

She thrashed in the stranger's arms for a few seconds, gasping. In the haze that had descended upon her, she bashed her fists against their shoulder, hitting them again and again as she trembled.

 

“Clarke, Clarke! It’s okay! You’re safe Clarke!” The voice sounded strangely familiar.

 

_“Clarke darling, you’re safe now. Mom has got you,” The voice was sweet as an electric shock passed through her body. She hadn’t even seen the guard turn on his baton._

She bucked wildly, almost breaking free before the arms dragged her back in.

 

“NO,” Her voice was hoarse and she quivered with exhaustion. “N-no! NO!”

 

With a last burst of energy, she managed to break free for a few seconds. Her hand flew up to her face and slid to her neck. She raked her nails across the soft skin, scratching deeply before her hands were caught in an iron grip.

 

Back into the forest smelling sweater she went.

 

Her whole body froze up and Clarke felt nothing.

 

She was just… numb. The hollow absence of feeling was almost painful in its own way. Like her very soul was filled with ice.

 

It might have been minutes or hours later that she became aware again. That emotions returned to her as her senses came back to life. She was exhausted. A soft voice was crooning to her.

 

“Shh, Clarke. It’s okay. I got you. I got you,” The voice was so gentle.

 

She became aware of a gentle rocking sensation and curled tighter into the mystery person's grip, finally calming down. When Clarke was finally able to uncurl and look up at her savior, she let out a little gasp.

 

“Lexa?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was pretty heavy. I'd really love to see your thoughts and have some decent feedback on it if anyone's got a spare minute to type.
> 
> Clarke's developing slowly and I'm trying to move her relationship with Lexa at an appropriate pace for both of their positions and mental states. Meanwhile, Anya is a relentless breath of fresh air who Refuses To Be Ignored.
> 
> P.S. Sorry if I don't get to answer all the comments! I will do my best to make an effort with comments that are more analytical or feedback-y (don't get me wrong I love the comments that just say you like it :) ) but assignments are killer at the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> something a bit more light-hearted....

**Chapter 4**

Lying awake, safely tucked into her bed, Clarke realised she must have passed out shortly after realising that her hero had been Lexa.

 

She felt the heat rise to her face at that. God, she had been so weak in front of Lexa. If her mother ever found out that Wanheda had broken down so publicly… Well, she was lucky that no one else had been around.

 

She didn’t know how she knew but she could tell that Lexa and Anya were both in the room. When a few moments later she heard them murmuring to each other her theory was confirmed.

 

She did her best to stay still, not wanting to face them just yet. Lexa would have undoubtedly told Anya what had happened. She pushed her face deeper into her pillow as she realised that Lexa must have carried her to her bed. She hoped no one had seen.

 

Clarke stubbornly refused to think about how strong Lexa was as she shifted in the bed slightly. She could tell it was daylight, maybe midday. She had missed her late morning class, but it had just been a lecture on something she’d already learned so it didn’t bother her much.

 

She heard one of the girls start walking across the room and desperately hoped that they would think she was asleep. When they settled themselves on the bed – _Anya,_ Clarke decided- Clarke held very still.

 

A calloused hand landed on her forehead and she flinched even as it pushed the hair away from her face.

 

“I know you’re awake, Little Dove.” Clarke sighed and rolled over to face Anya, looking up from underneath her lashes.

 

Her heart thumped in her chest. She’d never felt so ashamed before. Anya seemed to read her mind.

 

“Don’t worry Little Dove. No one is judging you. We told the group that you had a poor nights sleep and forgot about an essay you needed to hand in, so they won’t be questioning you about your sudden departure.” Anya’s voice was steady and calming, like a soothing balm in the middle of a raging ocean.

 

Letting herself continue to be weak, despite her instincts screaming not to, Clarke lent into Anya’s hand that now rested on her cheek.

 

Anya smiled slightly and started drawing circles with her thumb. Clarke sighed at the feeling. How long had it been since someone had touched her with only friendly, comforting intentions? How long had it been since someone had been gentle with her? Her father’s blue eyes flashed in her memory and she pushed the thought away.

She could feel Lexa’s worried eyes on her from across the room and pulled her blankets tighter.

_“Shh now Clarke. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”_

“Thank you,” She murmured.

 

They all knew she wasn’t just talking to Anya.

 

“Want to talk about it?” Anya’s voice was still gentle but Clarke jolted away as if she had been shocked.

 

Anya’s hand easily found its way back to her hair, stroking in long, gentle sweeps. Clarke settled again, the cathartic touch almost hypnotic.

 

Remembering she had been asked a question, Clarke replied softly.

 

“No.” She peeked at Anya and found warm brown eyes staring back at her gently.

 

“That’s okay. You need to get ready.” Any moved away and stood up.

 

Clarke instantly missed the friendly presence the taller girl had provided.

 

“Get ready? Why?” Anya laughed at her innocent response.

 

“We’re going to gym, obviously.” Clarke groaned.

 

“Plus there is this Italian pasta place we want to hit up for lunch,” Lexa quipped.

 

Clarke shuddered as she dragged herself out of bed; glad the girls were letting her off easy.

 

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

The girls ultimately avoided talking about the incident; they seem to have come to a mutual conclusion that it was not to be mentioned. Clarke was glad to move on.

 

Although she had noticed Anya pushing her harder at the gym and Lexa butting in to order her a meal size rather then an entre size plate when they went to the Italian restaurant. Clarke hadn’t bothered to argue, too exhausted from both the gym and her earlier outburst.

 

In fact, everything had been going very smoothly until this moment. Anya and Lexa were going to bed.

 

Clarke was ready to settle contently in her blankets, sketchbook at the ready (which at this point was so full of sketches of Anya and Lexa it was ridiculous) and had just in fact skipped over a detailed drawing of Lexa’s face, plump lips parted, when Anya called out.

 

“You need sleep, Little Dove.” Her voice was stern.

 

“No, I’m fine,” Clarke said automatically, even as her exhaustion pushed at the edges of her mind.

 

She was so tired.

 

And once again, Anya appeared at her bed. She pushed the sketchbook out of Clarke’s hands and straddled her and Clarke tried to avoid sighing.

 

Clarke looked anywhere but Anya’s face. Last time this had happened Anya was trying to make her eat. Blowing up at her hadn’t pushed her away and ultimately Clarke had caved in four days after the ordeal.

 

Clarke was quickly learning she couldn’t win in an argument against the older blonde.

 

Anya’s hand gripped her chin and forced her to look at her.

 

“Anya, why must you be so… Hands on in your approach?” Lexa called.

 

“Because otherwise our Little Dove won’t listen,” Anya replied and Lexa sighed in resignation.

 

Anya raised an expectant eyebrow at her and Clarke sighed, sitting up. Anya easily slid off of her, sitting across from her and watching her with gentle eyes. Anya seemed determined to look after her.

 

Clarke couldn’t tell if she liked it or resented it. Mostly, she couldn’t understand it.

 

“I can’t,” Clarke said evasively, playing with the edges of her sketchbook. This afternoon she had drawn Lexa, her facial features blocked out by shadows as the morning sun lit up her outline, every hair illuminated in amazing detail.

 

“Nightmares?” Clarke winced.

 

Anya wasn’t pulling punches.

 

But to call the horrific scenarios she was faced with every time she slept nightmares, when she woke up screaming and crying and begging… It just didn’t seem like enough.

 

Clarke shrugged and Anya sighed.

 

“Do you ever sleep?” She asked.

“When you guys aren’t here,” Clarke mumbled.

 

“That’s why you wanted our schedules,” Lexa realised out loud.

 

“Clarke,” Anya was aghast, “That’s not enough!”

 

Clarke didn’t look up.

 

“Listen, Little Dove, we can go-” Anya started.

 

Clarke was quick to cut her off. “No! This is your room to.”

 

Anya sighed, before standing with purpose. Clarke and Lexa watched in confusion as Anya grabbed one of Clarke pillows and chucked it on her bed.

 

“I used to do this for Tris all the time, you are no different,” Anya said firmly, grabbing Clarke’s wrist before yanking her across the room.

 

Suddenly realising the older girl’s intent, Clarke planted her feet.

 

“Anya no! I will… disturb your sleep,” Clarke knew that the argument was weak in the face of the older girl.

 

Anya knew it to and simply raised an eyebrow.

 

“You can’t win this one, Clarke,” Lexa’s voice was both amused and disapproving.

 

“If you don’t, I’ll just stay awake with you. Maybe have a peek at that sketchbook of yours,” Clarke blushed and Anya’s grin turned feral.

 

Ignoring her mention of the sketchbook – _now Clarke knew she’d have to hide it-_ she turned to the older girl.

 

“You can’t do that! You need sleep…” Clarke trailed off, realising how pathetic that sounded when she herself was not willing to sleep.

 

Anya had a determined gleam in her eye and Clarke, not for the first time, thought _this girl is relentless._

 

“I don’t want you to see me like… Like what I am when I wake up.” She murmured, cheeks heating and an uncomfortable stinging in her eyes.

 

She was surprised when Anya crossed the room and pulled her into a hug.

 

_I keep forgetting how touchy-feely the Trikru are behind closed doors._

Clarke sighed, inhaling Anya’s particular scent of wood-smoke and honey. She found the scent to almost be like a balm on her aching soul.

 

“It’s ok to ask for help sometimes, Clarke. And now you don’t even have to ask, because I’m offering.” Her voice was firm and when Clarke glanced up, the look in her eyes was motherly.

 

She sighed in resignation.

 

“Does she do this to you to, Lexa?” Clarke tried to insert some playfulness into her voice.

 

“Only on days that end in ‘y’.” The usually stoic girls voice was teasing. “She’s kind of like a mother bear. A grizzly, at that.”

 

Clarke laughed against Anya’s pyjama jumper and the tips of the dark blonde’s ears turned red.

 

“ _Shod opf, Leksa.”_ Clarke felt a stab of guilt for not revealing that she knew what they were saying.

 

It felt like she was betraying their trust. Clarke nestled closer to Anya and resolved to tell them one day soon.

 

_Soon. But not right now._

 

Lexa laughed and Clarke was surprised to hear such a carefree sound come from the serious girl. Clarke smiled and decided she liked it.

 

“C’mon Clarke. I’ll protect you from the monsters. “ Anya’s voice was gentle.

 

Apprehensively Clarke crawled into the small bottom bunk and squished against the wall, her head on her own pillow. Anya gracefully climbed in after her, readjusting her pillow. There was so little room that their pillow’s overlapped. Anya wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, Clarke sighing happily at the contact. She’d never felt as strong, standing stead on her own, as she did now, with a pillar of strength next to her.

 

 _A pillar of strength with a sharp tongue,_ she thought wryly.

 

She pushed her head into Anya’s neck as a sense of sudden realisation came over her.

 

_My mother dictated that Wanheda must live a life alone._

_Maybe she is wrong._

 

She was broken from her thoughts when Anya’s voice sounded softly by her ear. “If this is uncomfortable, I’m sure Lexa would be willing to… accommodate you.”

 

Clarke squeaked indignantly and pinched the older girl in the ribs, the older girls soft chuckles chasing her as she fell asleep.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

_Clarke walked anxiously through the courtyard of Polis College, trying not to look at the faces of those watching her._

_Finn. Dad. Her mother, before she became wretched. Wells. The sweet Trikru girl she couldn’t save when her mother bombed Grounder Inc._

_She thought of how much she had cried when the girl breathed her last breath. The last living Trikru at the scene watched as Wanheda, unrecognizable beneath a heavy coat and hood, sobbed over the young girls._

_Octavia had pulled her away, gathering the young girl in her arms. She had walked to the small huddle of stunned Trikru warriors and gently placed the girl in the arms of a bear of a man._

_“Wanheda did everything she could. I’m sorry. We were going to try and warn you, but we were to late. Leave now, before the Chancellor comes. Abigail Griffin takes no prisoners. Not today,” The warrior watched her._

_He looked at the young girl, dead in his arms and Clarke could just see him glance at her dejected form before nodding._

_“C’mon Clarke. Before your mum realises what you tried to do.” Octavia pulled her to her feet._

_The memory faded away and Clarke was once again walking through the busy courtyard. She knew she was on her way to class, though she couldn’t place which class it was. There was a warm presence to her right, one that smelled of lavender and the woods. To her left was another spot of warmth, one that smelt like honey and wood smoke. Clarke didn’t have to look at them to know them._

_They parted ways and Clarke strode into her class, more confident than she had been in a while._

_But then, her professor looked up and her jaw went slack._

_“Cl-Clarke Griffin! This is highly inappropriate! Disgraceful!” Confused, Clarke looked around and saw that her classmates were either wide-eyed or giggling at her._

_Finally, the blonde looked down and gasped. She had somehow become completely and totally naked, clad only in a pair of ugg-boots._

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

 

Clarke woke with a gasp, jolting in Anya’s strong arms as her face went bright red with left over embarrassment. The older girl immediately tightened her grip and scanned Clarke’s features with concern.

 

Anya reached over and flicked on her bookmark.

 

“Clarke, Little Dove, are you okay? Did you have a nightmare? Clarke?” The concern in Anya’s voice was, Clarke thought, sweet.

 

But her words did reach the blonde.

 

Nightmare.

 

Clarke had dreamt of rocking up to class unclothed. Naked. The dream had started out nasty, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

 

The dead weren’t chasing her. There was no blood coating her hands. No cold gas, no shock batons, no claustrophobic rooms.

 

“Clarke,” Anya voiced again.

 

Clarke turned a bit in the bed to face the concerned woman. And then she started laughing. She was laughing so hard.

 

She had been naked. She had a nightmare about being _naked_ for Christ sakes!

 

It hadn’t ended in tears or screams or a frightening panic attack. And she hadn’t been covered in scars in the dream. A quick scan of her body showed that she hadn’t yanked at her clothes and revealed her mutilated body, which only made her happier.

 

God, Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this much.

 

“Is she alright,” Came a timid voice from the top bunk.

 

Anya watched as the younger blonde buried her head into her shoulder, trying to stifle her giggles. Anya smiled as she felt the vibrations of Clarke’s laugh against her skin. It didn’t seem hysteric or manic. Just happy.

 

“She’s fine, Little Lexa,” Anya hadn’t called her that in a while.

 

“Okay,” Finally the brunette replied, knowing she’d get details from her foster sister in the morning.

 

Clarke finally looked at Anya, her giggles subsiding.

 

“Anya, Anya,” She said breathless. “I had a bad dream.”

 

“Oh?” The older woman was thoroughly amused. “Did you now?”

“It started out really nasty,” Clarke admitted.

 

Anya bumped her forehead to Clarke’s, letting her know she was there to listen if needed.

 

But Clarke’s eyes were already drooping. She was so tired, and now that she had had a taste of sleep she wanted more. But she also wanted to tell Anya about her dream.

 

“After the beginning though! No one was dying; there was no blood, nothing! No glass rain either… I just rocked up to class but I was _naked._ Except for ugg-boots.” Clarke sounded positively joyous and it made Anya wonder what the girl’s dreams usually consisted of.

 

She knew Lexa would be wondering that as well. The _Heda_ was very curious about the beautiful blonde they shared their room with.

 

Glass rain… What had happened to her?

 

“What happened at the beginning of the dream, Little Dove?” Anya asked gently.

 

Clarke pushed her face into Anya’s collarbone, to sleepy to be shy. She considered Anya’s question as best she could in her overtired state.

 

“It was when Grounder Corp. was blown up. I couldn’t help them. There was this little girl, maybe twelve. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t even go with her after… After she died.” Clarkes voice was sad and Anya had been filled with a sense of foreboding since the moment she said _Grounder Corp._

“She was a Trikru kid. Those kids are always tough, but the impact of the bomb hit her in the chest. I was holding her when she stopped breathing. She looked so scared.” Clarke’s voice slurred slightly as she drifted into sleep again.

 

Anya tried to remove the tension from her shoulders, as Clarke pressed closer into her as she slept. After all she was quite pleased how much trust Clarke was placing in her.

 

Anya thought back on the blonde’s words, and moisture gathered in her eyes. Her heart was aching and there was a hole in it, which would never be filled. Tris had been family. When Ryder had brought her the small, dead body, she’d cried for the first time in years.

 

“Oh, Tris. I’m sorry.” She murmured, thinking of the sweet girl she’d once trained.

 

Lexa’s breath was slightly ragged from the top bunk. Sighing she turned to look down at the girl snuggled into her chest. How had she been there with Tris? Or was it someone else she’d tried to save? But Anya knew, she remembered, that Tris was the only child to have died in the Grounder Corp. bombing.

 

Anya loosed a long breath. She would have to get up all the files about the events of Grounder Corp. and go over them with Lexa. She looked contemplatively at Clarke as her fingers brushed her shoulder, feeling the ridge of what Anya could recognize as a scar underneath the fabric.

 

“Who are you, Clarke?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little less sadness for a while, not edited. Let me know what you thought. I'm trying to make Clexa slow burn and Clanya BROtp a bit quicker because, once again, Anya is Relentless.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yo

 

Clarke stretched from her place in her bed, feeling a bit of contentment deep in her chest as golden sunlight filled the quiet room. 

 

Despite Anya’s worry, Clarke had slept on her own last night. Although not as restful as when she shared the older girl’s bed it was still a successful night. Only two nightmares, and she had only woken up thrashing and screaming once. That had immediately resulted in Lexa and Anya rushing to her side. She had weakly pushed them back to their own beds, though after a few murmurs Lexa had stayed by her bedside a bit longer, gently stroking the hair away from her sweaty face as she fell asleep again. The memory of strong callused hands brushing away her fears like they were nothing was not one she would soon forget.

 

Perhaps the best thing the girls had done was that they hadn’t asked.

 

Clarke had recently come to the conclusion that Anya and Lexa had come from a lonely home and were simply filled with a nurturing instinct. A desire to protect. She decided not to question it further.

 

Her thoughts turned to the gorgeous green eyed girl in question. She sighed softly as she remembered the perfect bow of Lexa’s soft lips, the way her eyes crinkled a little bit when she smiled that small smile. She couldn’t help but think that as much as she was more reserved than Anya, she felt things just as much, if not more.

 

_ Speak of the devil,  _ Clarke thought as Lexa wandered out of the bathroom. 

 

More like as Lexa strutted out of the bathroom in an all too short bath towel that would soon be featured in Clarke’s sketchbook, steam curling around her as she swept wet hair to the side. 

 

_ Forgive me father for I have sinned,  _ Clarke thought as her traitorous body heated up without her permission. How unfair was it for Lexa to have such a solid, unwavering personality  _ and  _ a fucking perfect body?

 

Even the scars that graced her otherwise perfect skin - no, her  _ perfect  _ skin, because the scars were so undeniably  _ Lexa  _ they had to be perfect - were beautiful. Lexa was a vision in the early morning light that sneaked past the curtains and curled around her figure as a lover might do.

 

Clarke’s mouth went dry as Lexa drew nearer to her bed, obviously searching for her clothes. The beautiful brunette stopped short as she noticed Clarke’s wakeful, watchful state. 

 

“Sor-” 

 

“So-”

 

Both girls started their apology and then stopped, gesturing for the other to go on. Clarke blushed.

 

“Sorry, Lexa. I shouldn’t have looked,” She mumbled. 

 

Lexa laughed. “I should have been more careful, Clarke. Besides, no harm in looking, right?” 

 

Lexa threw a small, cocky smile over her shoulder as she found what she was looking for and moved back into the bathroom. 

 

Clarke rolled onto her back and huffed, half smiling at the absurdity of it all. She was aching over a girl. And it almost felt as if it was making the unbelievable pressure in her chest, the shards of glass settled underneath her skin, feel like they were nothing. Almost.

 

But Lexa was a very pretty, interesting girl. 

 

She felt eyes on her and turned back on her side, blushing when she saw Anya wide awake and watching her from the bottom bunk. Anya laughed at her blush and waggled her eyebrows at her. 

 

Clarke ditched a pillow at her, which the older girl easily dodged. 

 

“You seem awful interested in Lexa, Clarke.” Anya’s voice was saccharine. 

 

“Nope. I’m not. No need to worry, Anya.” Clarke was sweating. 

 

After all, there was no way she was romantically interested in Lexa. She didn’t have time for that, or room in her tattered heart for someone right now. The artist in her just appreciated Lexa’s excessive beauty. 

 

In hindsight, Logical Clarke could admit that this crush had been steadily creeping up on Clarke as Irrational Clarke denied it’s existence fiercely.

 

Her internal monologue was shattered when Anya’s voice sounded again. “Which explains why you exclusively watched her backside as she walked out, doesn’t it?” 

 

Clarke groaned as images of Lexa’s ass, covered in the short towel, flooded into her mind. There was nothing wrong in appreciating someone who was obviously fit and in shape, right?

 

Now Anya’s voice had a violent edge, “I don’t have to have a conversation with you about treating my sister right, do I?”

 

“No! Shut  _ up  _ Anya!” Clarke gasped as Lexa entered the room, fully clothed.

 

“You to need to get up and ready for the day,” Lexa tutted. 

 

“Lexa, you literally finished getting ready two seconds ago.” Anya pointed out. 

 

Lexa huffed and climbed up on top of her bunk, beginning the difficult process of making the bed. Clarke’s forced her eyes away from the legging clad legs. 

 

_ This is just a natural response to feeling safer with them. They’ve been so good and kind to me, especially with the sleeping and eating, which is why I can’t help but appreciate their… Aesthetic.  _

 

Which would have been a perfectly good explanation if Clarke hadn’t already known that the only one of the duo her eyes were constantly drawn to was Lexa. 

 

Clarke sighed and ripped herself away from her bed, blankets falling away from her like a discarded ball gown. Anya was going to take her time, and she had to be in class in an hour.

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



 

Clarke was slumped in her chair in her Art History class, watching as depressed students trickled into the room and fell into heaps upon the cracked vinyl chairs in the spacious room.No one dared approach the first four rows with their lecturers penchant for spitting.

 

Clarke was surprised when one grease stained, bright eyed Raven Reyes attached herself to the seat adjacent to her’s. 

 

In response to Clarke’s raised eyebrow, the dark girl shrugged and said, “Extra credit.”

 

Clarke paused and then nodded, accepting the answer and the hint of self-loathing in Raven’s voice. 

 

It then bled into a moment of awkward silence where Clarke could  _ feel  _ Raven’s trying not to bring up the library incident. It was in this short period of time she considered drowning herself in her coffee. It was not the first time she had imagined her own death in the last year, yet felt numb even as she did so. 

 

Raven coughed and Clarke felt a twinge of guilt. The girl was very friendly, and she had almost completely forgotten her and the number she had floating around in her phone.

 

“So…” Raven tried. 

  
Clarke turned her head towards her in recognition as the lecturer finally gave up on waiting for the chunk of students -most of the class- who were most definitely not going to attend. They would just borrow notes or watch the lecture online.

If Clarke didn’t go to lectures she was sure it would get back to her mother. She was having trouble identifying the spies in the school, but she’d bet money that the dean, Pike, was on her mother’s payroll. The way he practically foamed at the mouth when ever  _ Trikru  _ were mentioned around him was a good indicator.

 

The teacher’s droll voice dragged her back to reality. She was lucky she had enough elective slots that she was able to do a couple art courses.

 

“Um, why are you here then?” Raven whispered. “You’re a pre-med student.”

 

Clarke abandoned the doodle in her notebook where she was trying to figure out what her roommates would look like in their traditional  _ Trikru  _ garb and turned fully to Raven. She resigned herself to an early morning conversation and said, “I like art.” 

 

“Oh. Fair enough.” Raven was silent for a moment. 

 

“Hey, want to get a bite to eat after this?” Raven queried, suddenly shy. 

 

Clarke thought about her regular gym and lunch with Lexa -  _ god, Lexa in  _ gym  _ clothes - _ and Anya. 

 

“No thanks,” She declined. 

 

Raven looked a bit crestfallen, but before she could speak Clarke continued, “But I’d love to get some more coffee.”

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



  
  


Lexa looked up, surprised, when Anya clambered onto the top bunk with her. Within seconds, Lexa was pulled into her side. 

 

It was odd sometimes. Clarke, Tris, even Lincoln (especially if wrestling was counted) received - or had received- the highest amount of physical affection in private. But Lexa and Anya weren’t like that. Sure, they sat next to each other and leant on each other, but nothing to the degree of what Anya did with others. it had never bothered Lexa, to be honest. 

 

Their bond ran so deeply that touch wasn’t necessarily needed, yet when it was, Anya was there.

 

Anya was  _ always  _ there. 

 

Lexa watched as the blonde in question dropped a folder in Lexa’s lap. Upon opening it, Lexa was surprised to see that it was the file with all the information on the bombing of Grounder Corp, only a few short months after the treaty negotiations failed. It had been a low blow, especially since considering Grounder Corp was one of Trikru’s main legitimate businesses. It had taken a while to rebuild and several quiet counter attacks had been implemented to further cement the new buildings safety. 

 

It had also been where Anya’s twelve year old niece, her shadow, her second, the girl whom Anya was the primary caregiver of, had died. She hadn’t been ripped to pieces in the explosion, or crushed to death by debris like some unlucky souls. No, the pure force behind the explosion had impacted her tiny chest, doing irreparable damage to her fragile, human body. A lesson on the devastation of mortality none of them had signed up for.

 

Anya would not be looking at the particular file unless it was devastatingly important. She turned to her older sister, her mentor, with a question in her eyes.

 

Anya required no more prompting. “The other night, Clarke mentioned being at the Grounder Corp explosion, of holding a little girl she couldn’t save… It rang some bells. I had a look, and well, it’s all pointing towards one thing, Lexa.” 

 

Anya looked a bit gray, and Lexa swallowed the suddenly dry feeling in her throat. She began to flip through the pages of the manilla folder, stopping when she hit the page detailing Tris’s death. It was the only biography the girl had. 

 

She looked at the grainy images the surviving cameras had caught from a thousand different angles. Tris falling, a cloaked and hooded figure rushing towards her, crouching over her body in despair, holding the small figure in her arms. A strong, disguised woman at her side whom Lexa now knew to be Octavia was guarding the pair. Of the two on the floor, one’s breath was most likely coming in short gasps of despair even as the others faltered and grew weaker. 

 

Lexa pushed past her personal feelings as her mind began to connect the dots. That slim figure was none other than Wanheda, and Tris was the only child to have died in Grounder Corp. The only little girl to die in someone’s arms at. 

 

Clarke had said she had held a little girl in her arms as she died after the explosion. Befuddled with sleep, her words had slurred and had been muffled from where she pressed her face against Anya, yet undeniably coherent. 

 

Lexa’s breath felt a bit dryer. She turned to Anya. 

 

“Do you think… Do you think Clarke is th- is her. Is Wanheda?” What would this mean for them?

 

Wanheda had been planning on escaping to Trikru from the horrors of Skaikru. She had a valuable skill set, important information and a good enough motive to leave. Octavia had proven useful even though she had essentially betrayed Wanheda to abscond and be with the Trikru boy she loved, Lexa and Anya’s close friend. Lincoln. 

 

Who she was ironically apart from now anyway. 

“I don’t think we can jump to conclusions, but yes, I think so. Her jumpy behaviour, and her involvement with Grounder Corp… It makes sense.” Anya’s voice was solemn.

 

“Okay.” Lexa breathed in deeply. “For now we do nothing. We don’t know for sure. We can try harder to say things in Trig that will startle her into a reaction, even though that isn’t solid proof, we know that Wanheda spoke Trigedaslang. Even if she is, we talk to her. Wanheda wanted to escape a summer ago, before everything had happened with their mother and father. Nyko reported they had been in the process of giving them their Trikru markings, their tattoo’s, when they were interrupted and captured. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

 

Anya nodded, and Lexa noted the relief in Anya’s eyes. She had grown attached to the sad blonde they shared their room with. There was stillt he risk Clarke was a spy though.The only reason they had slipped off unknown to this college was because of the high rate of Skaikru children here and the never ending business deals the city offered. Titus had of course not approved, but Lexa had needed to stretch her muscles and get out of Polis for a while.

 

Lexa sighed and let her head thump against the wall as her heart picked up an irregular beat, skipping whenever her mind’s eye focused on any individual part of Clarke. Her eyes, her lips, her body, her golden hair and her quiet nature that hid a personality forged of steel and fire and ice and stone. If you watched Clarke closely you could see she was a walking contradiction. She appeared weak but was so, so strong… Yet she appeared strong when she was truly fragile. 

 

And now it was time to find out who she truly was, underneath the sun touched hair, deep eyes and soft voice.

  
The thought of that task scared Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait :) 
> 
> I'm back to school soon. Yay. Thank you for the comments, I will try to respond to some soon <3
> 
> I've recently noticed that the change in formatting from google docs to here = very large gaps between lines/paragraphs. Does this really bother anyone or can I just leave it?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's short but important

**Chapter 6**

 

Clarke bit her lip as she glanced away from her notes to her drawing book and then back again. Really, she should be studying, but, well she had a vision in her mind. One of Lexa. Or a few of Lexa. Maybe a bit of Anya. 

 

Sighing she forced herself to look over her notes for her biology class. Pre-med wasn’t fun. Her mind inevitably drifted, and when it did it took her to a time long ago. 

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



 

_ Clarke watched in delight as her mother’s car pulled into the drive. Her six year old body almost couldn’t contain her joy as her she finally saw her mum after a 50 hour shift at the hospital.  _

 

_ At this age Clarke didn’t know that the ‘hospital’ her mother worked for was an exclusive, secret medical center for the ever elusive Skaikru, who made news headlines as easily as Beyonce did. _

 

_ “C’mere, champ.” Her father picked her up and swung her around, much to her delight.  _

 

_ Abigail Griffin smiled as she opened the door to her house, seeing the two people she loved the most. She kissed her husband and took her daughter out of his arms.  _

 

_ “How are you, little warrior?” She teasingly asked her daughter.  _

 

_ Clarke brightened. “Good! Great! Mr Kane says I’m doing good. I’m better than Monty!”  _

 

_ Abby chuckled at her small child’s boasting. The head of the Skaikru Guard, charged with the protection of the council, their families, and the most prominent of Skaikru’s locations, was not a friend of her’s. He was, however, an excellent fighter.  _

 

_ And he had dared not refuse when the Head of Medical asked him to train her daughter in the ways of mixed martial arts. Her daughter had to be strong, and able to defend herself. She had already planned a seventh birthday consisting of well made practice throwing knives and a teacher for her to learn how to use them. She hadn’t told Jake yet. He wouldn’t understand.  _

 

_ “That’s good Clarke. You’re going to be the best, darling,” Abby cooed.  _

 

_ Neither of the girl’s saw Jake’s concerned look, or the way he bit his tongue to stop from engaging in another argument about Clarke’s future. _

 

_ Later that night, Clarke crept out of her bedroom in search of water. She used the extra soft steps Mr Kane’s wife, Callie had taught her, diligently avoiding creaking boards.  _

 

_ She froze just outside of her destination, the kitchen’s door cracked open and buttery yellow light spilling out, illuminating her toes and chipped nails. Clarke took a hurried step backwards, wincing as the the rough shifted on the floor. She held her breath, but her parents hadn’t heard.  _

 

_ Their voices were quiet yet fierce. Clarke bit her lip. She didn’t like it when mummy was mad, or sad. Daddy never was. Yet now he seemed harsher. More like an Adult, rather than her dad. Well’s dad was like that, and he made Mummy mad. She didn’t like Well’s dad.  _

 

_ She crept a bit closer, curiosity defeating her morals as it was so want to do. Clarke got as close as she dared and leant against the wall. Here she had a good opportunity to listen. _

 

_ “He’s losing it, Jake. Going mad,” Her mum argued fiercely, a tiger pacing in its concrete pen.  _

 

Captive animals may exhibit negative or abnormal behaviors, such as pacing. This can be sign of negative mental conditions,  _ Clarke remembered her tutor saying. _

 

_ Her dad snapped, unknowingly startling his young daughter, “Don’t say things like that Abby. He could have your head!” _

 

_ Abby snorted. “Who’s going to tell him, the walls? Though to be fair, I heard Birdie Reyes is trying to sell him her daughter as a tech genius. Apparently the kid’s making a fuss. He doesn’t want to do it and have cops get involved.” _

 

_ Jake was outraged. “Be careful, Abby. And don’t talk about things so casually. Enslaving a child is disgusting. I can’t believe you’ve not spoken out against it at the council meeting’s yet.”  _

 

_ Clarke didn’t like that word. Slavery. S-L-A-V-E-R-Y. It was, she thought, an ugly and mean word. _

 

_ “Look, I can’t,” Abby argued.  _

 

_ “I need to stay in favour with the council. If Jaha falls I need to be in good standing, okay?” Clarke’s mother was frustrated.  _

 

_ It reminded the small blonde of when she failed her math test and her mum wasn’t happy.  _

 

_ “The  _ Trikru  _ would never treat their, or anyone's, young so callously!” Clarke wondered why her dad was talking about the gang that was always on the TV. _

_ “Trikru,” Her mother spat.  _

 

_ Jake sighed and made for the door. Clarke took off at a light trot, stepping in the places she knew wouldn’t creak, her glass of water forgotten.  _

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



 

Clarke looked down at her notebook and felt her pen still. There, in perfect detail, was a sketch of one Abigail Griffin. A woman who never had her photo taken, or her portrait painted, for fear of being discovered. Being known as anything outside of ‘The Chancellor’ was a risk.

 

It was Jaha’s close ties with the media, with the world, that killed him. 

 

(Wrong - it was the clever mind of Abigail Griffin that killed Thelonious Jaha.)

 

(Years later, that same mind laid claim to the life of his son, with no remorse for the people left to grieve.)

 

She heard the subtle shift of someone approaching her from behind her desk and twirled the pen around in her hand,, shifting her grip automatically so she could use it as a weapon. 

 

She needn’t have bothered - it was only Anya.

 

_ “What are you doing, Little Dove?”  _ Anya asked in trigedasleng. 

 

Clarke almost responded in kind before she remembered herself. Her secret. She sighed. before turning to Anya with a blank, confused look despite the guilt settling deep in her gut. 

 

She met Anya’s eyes and was startled that set inside the impassive face were cool, calculating eyes.  _ Does she suspect?  _ But then her eyes cleared and the moment was gone as Anya broke into a small smile. Clarke smiled back a bit, unable to describe the way something in her was tying her emotions to Anya (to Lexa) without her permission.

 

“Oh, I forgot.” The honey blonde said lightly. “What are you doing?”

 

Clarke responded, “I’m studying.” 

 

“Oh really?” Anya raised an eyebrow and grabbed the notebook out of her hands. 

 

“Hey!” Clarke reached for it but Anya dashed away.    
  
Clarke laughed, which only encouraged the mischievous blonde. 

 

“This picture is fantastic Clarke… Who is it?” Anya’s voice was soft towards the end.

Clarke froze, her body stilling as if encased in ice. Who was it? It wasn’t her mother, It couldn’t be. Her mother was the smiling woman who went with her to book week. That was a drawing of the imposter who gave her a hooded coat and a knife for her thirteenth birthday.

 

Or was it her mother? A feeling of doubt settled over Clarke, and she suddenly couldn’t decide how she felt. 

 

_ Is she my mother? Or is she Abigail Griffin? I don’t know. Or are they the same.  _

 

Clarke’s breaths seemed to be a bit shallower as her mind raced. How could she truly describe that woman? She was the Chancellor. She was the thing in Clarke

s nightmares, She was the woman who gave her life. In a sense, she was Clarke. 

 

_ Am I her? Am I my mother. Will I grow and become the same? _

 

Clarke itched to dig into her skin with something sharp. An outside piece of glass to join the inside glass. She knew that any kind of pain she  _ chose would  _ bring clarity and control as it chased away the confusion. 

 

_ Who was Abigail Griffin? Was she Abby, was she mum, was she the Chancellor?  _ The questions swam around in her mind, tiny piranhas taken bites at her consciousness, chewing away her mooring and leaving her to drift. The outside world seemed to feel unnecessary for a moment, and Clarke felt slow in a terrifying kind of way. It was like she was honey rolling upon a pane of glass.

 

_ Who am I? Clarke Griffin, flesh and blood of the Chancellor? Or Wanheda? I don’t know.  _

 

Clarke felt some kind of outside force push against her, as if someone had wiped away the honey with water.

 

She blinked twice, and found herself staring into Anya’s eyes, the comforting brown turned amber by the afternoon sun. 

 

“Clarke,” From the tone of her voice, this was not the first time she had spoken her name. 

 

“I don’t know,” Clarke mumbled. 

 

“What?” Anya seemed impassive and strong, yet Clarke noticed the hint of weakness nibbling on Anya’s sharp edges, softening them just for her.

 

_ This must be how Lexa feel’s when Anya looks after her. _

 

“I don’t know who it is, Anya. Who is it?” Clarke raised her gaze to meet Anya’s properly. 

 

Anya didn’t like what she saw. Hazy blue eyes, a numb expression and plain confusion lingering on her face. Guilt settled like a blanket on the lean woman - had her questions caused this?

 

Anya sighed. She liked Clarke, but even she had to admit - Clarke was sick. And it wasn’t the kind of sick the doctors could fix, or the kind that antibiotics would cure. It was like Clarke’s very soul was wounded, trembling like a harp string when anything left it feeling threatened. Yet that fire was still there, perhaps even deeper than her soul. It was the same fire Anya saw in Lexa, a raging furnace deep inside her that stole the breath of all those who stayed long enough to witness it -yet hot enough to incinerate those that fought against it. A dangerous, powerful combination. 

 

She looked into Clarke’s eyes, that begged her to answer a question far more complex than simply, ‘Who is in the picture?’.

 

No, they asked Anya, “ _ Who am I?” _

 

Anya kissed the younger girl’s forehead, lending her her strength. 

 

“That’s for you to decide, Little Dove.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it :) Some good ol Clanya BROTP. Please check out my other story if you have time. I like to think this is good portrayal of the depth and expanse of emotions Clarke experiences, and her own confusion linked to what her identity really is. Please comment your thoughts.
> 
> P.S. Would anyone be interested in a werewolf fic?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of feels. I swear things start to get better soon. You can hope to see Clarke transform a bit after this chapter, slowly becoming stronger (Badass Clarke is the best Clarke but healing is a journey)
> 
> TW for sort of self harm? This is a heavy chapter guys. But also a good chapter. Important and shit.
> 
> You'll like the very ending?

**Chapter 7**

 

Lexa huffed through her teeth as she pushed even harder, her eyes focused only on Anya as they circled each other. Clarke may attend their midday gym sessions, but she knew nothing of their late afternoon sparring matches. As Heda it was important she stay in perfect shape and form.

 

Anya risked a blow to Lexa’s face that she smoothly deflected, taking a step back and moving into the defensive when Anya drew a blade, and then another. Anya attacked with fierce intensity, the girl who watched squid documentaries with Lexa gone, replaced with a cold, indifferent warrior.

 

Lexa palmed her own blade, slashing at Anya’s chest. The ring of steel filled the room as the two women fell into a rhythm of attack, defend and dodge. Both were ready to attack at a seconds notice, and they had moved seamlessly from hand to hand fight to armed combat. 

 

Finally Lexa sent a blade flying from ANya’s left hand, but realised her mistake a she left her side open. Anya spun, bring the blade towards her at an incredible speed. 

 

But Lexa was faster.

 

She deflected the blow and landed a series of arm-jarring blows against Anya’s blade, with the intent to numb her arm. Anya grinned ferally at Lexa’s new found enthusiasm, fighting back with as much vigor.

 

Lexa ducked a particularly nasty swipe meant for her head and ramned her nose into Anya’s waiting knee for her trouble. She knew it wasn’t going to bruise, at least. Spinning, she slammed the hilt of her blade into the weakest point of Anya’s wrist. The long dagger dropped from her grip and Anya brought her knife to rest at Anya’s neck. 

 

Anya smirked and blew a raspberry at her, causing Lexa to rear back in disgust. Anya laughed. 

 

“ _ Gross, Fos,”  _ Lexa complained. 

 

_ “Now, now Leksa. Whining is not becoming of Heda.”  _ She could hear the smirk in Anya’s tone.

 

Lexa snarled in response, stalking off to the showers. She stripped and stepped into the relaxing spray, feeling her muscles begin to loosen under the spray. She caught a hint of herself in the reflection of the glass and gave a smirk of her own. Lexa wasn’t exactly vain, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know that she looked good. 

 

She ran soap across her belly under her pits when the thought came to her, unbidden. 

 

_ Would Clake think I looked good? I wonder if she likes abs on a girl.  _

Lexa shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Clarke probably wasn’t gay, plus she was likely Wanheda. Lexa sighed at that. 

 

That would certainly complicate things, considering that  _ Skaikru - _ she spat as she thought the name- were her mortal enemies. But they were willing to welcome Wanheda before, what had changed now?

 

_ A lot,  _ she thought grimly.

 

All of her reports had said that Wanheda had been terribly punished for her attempt to abscond, but had never given up the names of her accomplices. Lexa had been able to have Nyko broken out and brought home after his eleven year long position as a spy amongst Skaikru, but the man who had helped him for nine of those years, the Chancellor's own husband, had perished. 

 

Even with Nyko being close friends with the man the most they had been able to discover about the man was that his name was Jake, and a basic description of his appearance. Nyko never even saw the chancellor until the day she murdered her husband, Wanheda’s father, and even those details were blurry. Lexa clenched her fist; they had been so close to having such an incredible fighter with a wealth of information added to their ranks. So, Close. 

 

She sighed. There was nothing to be done about Clarke right now. 

 

Raven, on the other hand. 

 

The girl was ridiculously smart, so smart in fact that she had actually developed a sort of wariness towards Lexa and Anya. And as much as she gossiped about the different gangs, Lexa’s sources had told her that Raven actually hated them. 

 

After all, it was Skaikru who claimed his life. As far as Raven knew, he had left her and disappeared into the blackness which was the Skaikru drug industry. Lexa wrinkled her nose and turned up the hot water, enjoying the way the steam curled around her, rejuvenating her skin. 

 

She preferred to develop legal drugs rather than illegal ones. It also meant she was more likely to be commanding her people through respect and fear rather than the desperate desire for the next fix of whatever drug she was hoarding. It also gave her the opportunity to make sure every single Trikru member who requested medical assistance got it. Lexa supplied her people with everything from AIDs medication to Anti-Depressants and even HRT. Other medical needs were met from ambulance cover to extended hospital stays. Lexa owned four private hospitals, catering to the very rich, as well as two public hospitals for those on low-income, which were a big part of the ‘Legal’ Trikru’s portfolio. Having their own charity did help them look better in the eyes of the media, to.

 

But Raven and Finn. No, Raven’s boyfriend hadn’t left her for drugs. All Lexa knew was that that boy had died somewhere in the underbelly of Skaikru, murdered for unknown reasons. Lexa’s lip twisted back in displeasure. If she ever managed to bring Raven into Trikru, she’d have to face her much more often, on a more intimate level without disclosing such information. After all, if the girl’s emotions were jeopardized her actions would become… Unpredictable.

 

Raven would be an excellent addition to her team. She desperately needed someone smart enough to safely communicate with Monty, who had gone quiet last summer out of necessity when Skaikru almost discovered him hiding in their tech team. But she also needed someone who could break through the Skaikru’s computer system without actually infiltrating their ranks. There was less risk that way.

 

Lexa washed the conditioner out of her hair, belatedly realising she had washed her hair out of pure habit. At least it would be soft for a day before going frizzy. 

 

_ Not like Clarke’s. Clarke’s hair is  _ always  _ soft.  _

 

Before her traitorous mind could continue, she heard Anya calling from outside her stall (clearly done with her own shower). 

 

“Hurry up, you gay watermelon! You can plot later, when I am asleep and not waiting for your slow ass!” Anya’s voice cut through the steam (and Lexa’s peace and quiet) like a knife. 

 

“Gay watermelon?” Lexa muttered, confused. 

 

She decided to move on from it. If she showed any sign of dislike to the impromptu nickname, Anya would assign it to her for months.

 

Banishing thoughts of sunlight hair and soft skin from her mind, Lexa turned off the water. 

 

“I’m coming, you old nag,” She yelled back.

  
  


  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



 

Clarke looked up suspiciously from her malicious looking bowl of stew - _ maybe I should just go vegetarian-  _ to see what looked to be a boy dressed in all grey sit across from her. 

 

Clarke sighed as he began to scoff down his meal. She was only here because Raven invited her to the cafeteria (why the cafeteria) for dinner. But Raven had burnt her fingers on an experiment and couldn’t make it, so Clarke’s dinner became a morose affair featuring the Mystery Stew and her essay on cancer cells.

 

The boy across from her grunted, and she ignored him. When he grunted again, she looked up and was surprised to find him staring directly at her. Even more surprisingly, the boy under the hood was Atom, part of Raven’s group. 

_ Something about him reminds me about Bellamy,  _ she thought. She immediately banished the thought. Bellamy was lost. Last time she checked, he was only struggling towards redemption so his sister -she flinched away from the thought of Octavia because,  _ god - _ would speak to him again. He felt no remorse for his actions.She tried to connect the kid with the bright smile and dimples to the man who placed bombs in a building filled with civilians in the attempts of getting at one of Trikru’s higher ups, and found she couldn’t. 

 

_ Note to self: Find out who Anya and Lexa are amongst the Trikru.  _

 

Atom pulled her away from her thoughts when he slid a scrap of paper across the table to her. He was up and walking away as soon as Clarke picked it up - albeit she touched the paper very cautiously, a sense of dread in her stomach.

 

Unfolding the paper,she felt the food in her stomach try to rebel. 

 

_ The Chancellor watches.  _

 

_ You are to resume you’re fighting practices immediately. You will not disgrace Skaikru by becoming weak.  _

 

_ If you do not obey you will be retrieved.  _

 

Clarke couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to fight. She never wanted to raise her fists, or any weapon for that matter, again. 

 

But on top of that. Atom. 

 

_ Oh my god, Atom.  _ He was her mother’s spy. He was  _ Skaikru.  _

 

She highly doubted he knew who she was. He just knew he was to report her movements to whoever is overseer is. _ Pike, I think. If I got the area right.  _

 

Clarke wanted to scream. How was she supposed to fight against her mother when she was everywhere? She swung her laptop shut and pushed into her backpack, abandoning the stew and making for the dorm buildings. She was shaking. 

 

Once safely inside her room, thankfully empty of its other inhabitants, Clarke dumped her bag on the bed and moved into the bathroom. She locked the door behind her, gasping. Every small sound was agitating, from the hum of the fan to the faint sound of music from the neighbouring room. She itched to yank at her hair and claw at her skin in response. 

 

_ Not good enough,  _ her mother taunted. 

 

She braced herself over the sink, stilling when she caught her reflection in the mirror.She faintly heard the dorm room door unlock, open and close but ignored it. 

 

_ Who am I? I am not my father’s Clarke. Not anymore. But I am not Wanheda. I refuse. _

 

_ You can’t refuse your true self,  _ Abby taunted. Clarke swore she caught a glimpse of her in the mirror. 

 

No. No. Clarke refused. She would not let Abby invade her waking time as well as the time she slept. It wasn’t fair,

‘

She looked at her face in the mirror again. Her facial features were mostly inherited from her father but - that determined tilt to her chin, the thick hair, those were all her mother's. 

 

_ No.  _

 

With a strangled cry, Clarke struck out at the mirror. It shattered and bits of glass embedded themselves in Clarke’s skin, She didn’t mind, She rejoiced in it. 

 

_ Pain is beauty.  _

 

She laughed harshly, ignoring the sound of someone calling her name from the main dorm room. If that was true, then Clarke was a fucking masterpiece. She laughed as she hit the mirror again, distorting her face even more as the glass splintered and fell to the ground. 

 

She faintly heard someone banging on the door but she was lost in a tidal wave of emotion and memories. 

 

_ As Clarke fell, the glass that surrounded her was illuminated in the sun. it was, for lack of a better word, beautiful. She could almost pretend that the way it was stained with blood, her blood, her father’s blood, it didn’t matter, was just an attempt to stain the glass. _

 

Her laughter had become hysterical and blood swirled down to mix with the shards of mirror, a stark contrast against the creamy basin. 

 

Finally, the door broke down behind her. She didn’t bother to look up as her legs wobbled. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and spun her, forcing watery blue eyes up to concerned emerald ones. Clarke stopped laughing. Suddenly, this didn’t seem so funny.

 

For a few seconds, there was no sound outside of Clarke’s ragged breathing and the  _ drip drip drip  _ of her blood slowly splattering against the floor.

 

“Lexa,” She breathed.

 

“Oh, Clarke.” Lexa drew her close and she raised her mangled hands to bury them in the brunettes hair. 

 

God, the smell of her. She just smelt purely like the earth, with a hint of lemon. It smelt like coming home. 

 

“I’m not - I’m strong.” She tried. “I promise I’m not weak, Lexa,  _ I promise.” _

 

“I know that. But you need a doctor, Clarke,” Lexa tried gently, not even questioning  _ why.  _

 

Lexa, Clarke realised, understood. She didn’t need the why’s and what’s to understand the now. She looked at Clarke and she knew - Clarke was hurting. The simple realisation that there was a person, a person who knew her and understood her, made Clarke want to cry. She quietly realised that no matter how hard her mother tried, Clarke and Wanheda would always be separate. She may no longer be Jake’s Clarke, but perhaps she could become her own Clarke.

 

And now - well, she had a person, didn’t she? Everyone has someone. Clarke had someone.

 

“No doctors,” She pleaded softly, her face brushing against the soft skin of Lexa’s neck.

 

“Okay,” The brunette sighed. 

 

She silently sat Clarke down on the floor of the bathroom, leaving for a few seconds only to return with a med kit. 

 

Clarke said nothing as Lexa worked, pulling shards of glass out of the sticky wounds. Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but think Lexa looked cute with glasses on. She was glad she was numb, since there was no anesthetic. Her breath caught when Lexa pushed Clarke’s sleeves up to get at a few tricky cuts. The brunette stilled as took in the edges of at least seven different scars on the small amount of skin she had exposed. At least four of them were perhaps less than a year old, raised and angry looking. Some didn’t even look as if they had been stitched properly.

 

Clarke bit back a sob and looked away. She was not vain, or a creature that longed only for beauty. But in comparison to Lexa, she felt like a cur put against a prize Great Dane. 

 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lexa’s hands shifted slightly against her own. and something soft touched the center of her left wrist, where two scars crossed each other. Her breath caught; brave, fearless Lexa had pressed a kiss to a part of her that Clarke hated. Her heart skipped a beat as Lexa repeated the action on the right wrist. \

 

Lexa dropped her hands for a second, taking Clarke’s face in her hand’s. 

 

“You don’t have to be scared, Clarke. I’m not going anywhere.” There was an unspoken,  _ you’re beautiful,  _ in there as well.

 

Clarke nodded and Lexa went back to work, She was vaguely aware of Anya leaning against the door, having appeared rather suddenly. She knew she would have to explain things later, if only because she found herself  _ actually  _ caring about Anya’s state of mind.

 

After Lexa had removed the glass and washed all her wounds in antiseptic, she stitched the worst ones and wrapped Clarke’s hands in soft bandages. _ Her stitches are very good, very neat,  _ Clarke thought vaguely.

 

Lexa silently helped Clarke to her bed, stopping so Anya could give her a kiss on the head. As she helped Clarke under the cover’s, Anya moved into the bathroom to clean. When Lexa went to leave, Clarke croaked out in defiance. 

 

Lexa looked at her gently, her face only just discernable with the lights off. 

 

“Stay.”

 

lexa hesitated only for a second before climbing in next to her. 

 

“I’m sorry,” She whispered. 

 

“You don’t need to be,” Lexa insisted softly.

 

“I know,” She murmured. 

 

Clarke watched as a few strands of Lexa’s hair drifted out of place. Sh erased her damaged hand to push them back into place, her unbound finger’s grazing Lexa’s cheek. When her hand returned to it’s resting place at her side, Lexa’s found it and curled around it in silent camaraderie. 

 

“I just want to be okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Clarke felt tears on her face. 

 

Lexa brushed her nose against Clarke’s own.

 

“You will be, Clarke. I promise. You can only move forward. I have the utmost faith in you.” Lexa’s voice was quiet but sure.

 

Clarke’s breath caught at the fierceness of this beauty in her bed. But she wasn’t just beautiful; she was smart, she was kind, she was both strong and gentle, and she always knew what to say. No matter how stern she was with others, she always handled Clarke as if she was important. As if she meant something. 

 

It was then, as Clarke lay with her face centimeters from Lexa’s (close enough she could probably count Lexa’s eyelashes), the girl’s breath hot on her lips that she realised,

  
_ I think I’m falling in love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! I know letting her get a bit better then kickin her down was cruel but things will move a bit faster (I hope) now that there is a level of trust between Clarke and Lexa. They can begin to get close now. After all, relationships are built on a foundation of trust lol. 
> 
> Also: I have a tumblr. it is pretty bare ATM (pls follow even if it's empty lol) and it's a side blog, but if you want to check it out you can ask me questions there, get info, etc I migth even do prompts lol.
> 
> It's called: running--with--stars
> 
> yess two hyphens lol
> 
> Please comment - did u guys think this felt rushed? I'm a bit worried about this chapter. it's really important for the story to progress and for clexa to progress but I'm worried it's not good enough/up to standard ? Anyway i need sleep its 1AM


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yolo 
> 
> its time to amp it up, binches

**Chapter 8**

 

Clarke shifted slightly into the warmth that encompassed her, turning her nose towards the comforting scent of earth and lemon. She sighed and then tensed when the ‘warmth’ sighed. She blinked awake and recognized that her face was buried in Lexa’s neck, Then she acknowledged that last night was a nightmare. 

 

_ I have to stop losing control. I have to move forward. _

 

She thought guilty of all her secrets. 

 

_ Not yet. _

 

She snuggled back into Lexa, purring softly. Absentmindedly she pressed a kiss to the soft skin there, freezing in horror when Lexa made a strangled noise. Clarke bleated in panic and went to draw back, but Lexa tightened her grip and forced her to still. Clarke could break free if she wanted to, but - she didn’t. Not really. 

 

“Sorry,” She murmured.

 

“It’s ok” Lexa’s voice was soft but hoarse. “It’s okay.”

 

“Lexa,” Clarke breathed, unable to contain the warmth in her chest from spreading to her voice. 

 

Lexa seemed to relax at Clarke’s pleased tone, and the blonde lazily drew her hands across the other girl’s back, revelling at the sensation of skin from where Lexa’s tank top had been pushed up. Clarke sighed in contentment as she felt Lexa’s muscles contract and release underneath her touch.

 

“Feeling better?” Clarke pulled away a bit to look at Lexa properly. 

 

“Yeah. I think-” Clarke paused. 

 

She thought of her mother, of her mother’s plans… And then she thought of the obvious grip her mother still had on her. 

 

_ No more. My mother will fall. The council will fall. Skaikru must be reborn.  _

 

“I feel great, actually, Lexa,” SHe finished with a sincere smile.

 

_ I know so much. So much she didn’t want me to know. I can find them and end them. I need to hack into the Skaikru network, I need to start disrupting them.  _

_ I need a rebellion.  _

 

Lexa’s eyes were soft, “That’s great, Clarke.” 

 

_ I need Raven. _

 

Clarke went quiet for a moment and make the mistake of looking directly at Lexa’s eyes. And God, they just  _ glowed  _ in the light of early morning, the looser, frizzy hairs that surrounded her illuminated like a halo. 

 

“Thank you,” Clarke whispered. 

 

Lexa didn’t answer, but then she didn’t need to. her eyes darted down to Clarke’s parted lips and then back up to her eyes. Clarke’s heart stuttered. 

 

_ Don’t do it don’t do it don’tdoitdon’tdoit DON’T DO IT  _ her brain screamed. 

 

Clarke did it. 

 

Leaning forward Clarke pressed her lips against Lexa’s, revelling in the plush, soft feel of them.When Lexa didn’t protest, she pushed forward and sucked on the brunette’s lower lip. Lexa whimpered softly, and bit slightly at Clarke’s lip. 

 

Clarke went to deepen the kiss, but then Lexa jolted away, a horrified look on her face. 

 

That stung. Clarke felt the mortification set in. 

 

_ What have I done? _

 

Before the stunned pair could say anything a heavy weight settled on them in an unceremonious heap. 

 

“Morning love birds,” Anya crooned. 

 

Her timing was almost perfect.

 

“I have to go,” Lexa said abruptly, standing up. 

 

Instead of falling on her ass like a normal person would, Anya landed crouched lightly on her feet. She sent a questioning look to Lexa but was ignored as the brunette shoved her feet into her ugg-boots and strode out of the room in a tank top and sweatpants, nothing but her phone and purse on her person.

 

Clarke decidedly ignored Anya’s suspicious gaze. 

 

“I-I need to shower,” She stuttered, stepping around Anya as she stumbled out of bed.

 

She moved into the bathroom, pausing as she looked at the destroyed mirror. There was a smear of blood that Anya had missed on the yellowing porcelain sink and Clarke had never felt so ashamed before. 

 

_ No more. I will be victorious this time.  _

 

God, what had she done with Lexa? Her lips still tingled from the kiss yet her heart ached from the horror in Lexa’s eyes, and her own eyes stung with unshed tears.

 

Anya moved through the open door and wrapped her arms around Clarke’s still figure. 

 

“I think you need some time to recover. But I want to talk, Clarke. Soon.” Anya was stern and it made Clarke feel like a little kid again. 

 

“Okay,  _ mum,”  _ She teased, relieved she didn’t ache at the use of that word. 

 

Anya huffed. “Someone has to look after you gay disaster’s.”

 

Clarke broke out of her hold and spun, going to smack Anya’s shoulder but the woman easily side stepped (a feat in itself inside the cramped bathroom). Anya caught her hand and Clarke automatically stepped close, her free hand jabbing Anya in the ribs. The girl gasped and spun Clarke into an easy headlock, which the blonde quickly broke out of, backing Anya into a corner. Anya spun them around, poking Clarke in the ribs. Clarke laughed and conceded, her mind briefly taken away from the Lexa situation.

 

“Someone’s got fire,” Anya crooned. 

 

Clarke laughed, but sobered up when Anya spoke more seriously. “Where did you learn to fight, Little Dove?” 

 

Clarke shrugged uncomfortably, the blood on the basin forgotten as she tried to avoid the question. She didn’t like the calculating look in Anya’s eyes.

 

“Alright then. Have a shower, you reek.” Anya was out of the room before Clarke could even retaliate. She chuckled and swung the door shut even as her nerves picked up. 

 

_ What does she know? _

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



  
  


Anya sat on her bed, scrolling through her messages. Five reports, two Skaikru violence incidents she needed to check out around the campus, a coded message on the success of wiping the executed  _ natrona’s  _ records and an invitation for Heda and the First Trikru General to attend the Flokru’s annual ball.

 

Her lips twisted up as she thought of the strong, beautiful Luna. She sighed as an image of soft, bare skin flashed in her mind’s eye. She hadn’t enjoyed a woman in a while, and sharing a dorm room didn’t exactly give her a chance to… Alleviate her own needs.

 

Her mind flickered to the pretty brunette with the leg brace from her little study group. Wasn’t she friends with Clarke?

 

Hold on- The study group had exchanged numbers. She scrolled through her contacts, pausing once she saw Raven.  _ That’s her.  _

 

_ Don’t. Your are the strongest of the Trikru’s Generals. You are THE General. Heda’s most trusted advisor. You do not make booty-calls to girl’s you barely know, especially not in the daytime. Even if they make bedroom eyes at you in the library. _

 

Remembering the girl’s mischievous eyes and daring smile, Anya grinned. She might be up for some fun.

 

**Anya - Sent at 9:02AM.**

 

_ I’m bored. What are you doing? _

 

It was a few moments before she got a reply. 

 

**Raven - Sent at 9:03AM. 1 Attachment.**

 

_ So the ever elusive Anya has deigned to talk to me? Well then, hot stuff, I’m just inventing. _

 

The attached photo was of an otherwise empty workshop, featuring a few piles of scrap and some half-finished projects. 

 

Anya bit her lip, but decided to take a shot at it, quickly snapping a pic of her. Her hair was bed tousled and the photo only captured the bottom half of her face, her teeth snagging on her bottom lip.

 

**Anya - Sent at 9:05. 1 Attachment.**

 

_ Hmm… Need some help? _

 

There was a paused and Anya wondered if she had gotten ahead of herself and let her desire get away from. But then her phone buzzed. 

 

**Raven - Sent at 9:09.**

 

_ Holy shit. Hell yeah. I’m sure you’re infamous… talented hands could lend me some help. _

 

Anya grinned. She did have a bit of a reputation. Her fingers seemed to work their way into many of her bed partners later conversations.

 

Raven texted her the address and Anya strode out of the room, confident. 

 

The lab wasn’t far and when she entered she softly closed the door. Anya crept up behind the brunette who was busy working on something that sparked at random intervals. 

 

She placed her hands on Raven’s shoulders, because who cared for subtly? She’d already basically asked a girl she barely knew to be her booty call.

 

Raven startled, but put her tools down. “Hey, hot stuff.”

 

Anya smirked. “Hello, Raven.” She practically purred, and the latina girl’s eyes darkened.

 

“You sure you want to do this?” Anya rasped. 

 

She’d never have a woman without their full consent. She had to be even more sure since she barely knew Raven. 

 

The girl in question pushed her ass into Anya, making her swear. 

 

“Of course I am,” Her eyes were hooded. “Are you?” She counterfeited. 

 

Anya chuckled before spinning the girl around, pressing her against the bench. She lowered her lips to Raven’s ear and whispered, “I’m sure.”

 

Before Raven could reply, Anya lifted her with ease..Raven gasped and wrapped her good leg around Anya’s waist, the brace already discarded since she had been leaning against the table. Raven burned with embarrassment at her injured leg.

 

Anya didn’t seem to mind - she simply used her hand to hoist that leg up, making sure to look at Raven’s face to see if she was in pain - and continued. Raven’s chest warmed - so many people didn’t want to bed her because of her leg, and those who did treated her like a fine china doll.

 

As Anya set her down hard on the counter, one arm around her waist (Anya made sure there wasn’t even room for air between their bodies, and  _ God  _ Raven could feel her abdomen muscles clenching) the other arm tangled in her hair, Raven knew that  _ that  _ wasn’t going to be an issue. 

 

Raven was angling down for a kiss but Anya had a different idea. She pressed forward and down, her lips connecting with the column of Raven’s neck as the darker girl’s hands caught in her hair. Anya took pleasure in the girl’s vocal tendencies as her teeth collided with skin, bruising and biting. 

 

Anya grunted softly when Raven tugged her back up, sealing their lips in a sealing kiss. They seemed to battle for dominance for a few moments, but Raven quickly gave in, Anya surged forward, reveling in the taste of Raven and the sensation of a soft, pliant body underneath her hands.

 

Anya knew if she said this was just about sex she would be lying. Her position within Trikru was high stress, and normally only people of equal rank within the coalition were willing to have her take them to bed. She didn’t care about rank all that much when it came to sexual and romantic relationships, but others did. They were either terrified of her or wanted to use her. SO to have Raven want her, even if it was just for her body, without that looming over her was incredibly freeing.

 

Raven bit her lip and she growled in response, hands flying to the girl’s jean clasp. Raven’s hips bucked up and she moaned, goading Anya on. She finally released the button, and eagerly dragged the zip down. Anya gave Raven a look at the glimpse of Spongebob panties. Raven just laughed.

 

“Hurry up,” She whined. 

 

Anya laughed and let her hand move. She was just about to hit gold (even at this awkward angle) when the door flew open. 

 

“Rave - Oh my GOD, holy shit,” Anya groaned.

 

She’d recognise Clarke’s voice anywhere. Raven let out a sigh and slumped over Anya’s shoulder. The moment was ruined. That didn’t stop both girls bodies from thrumming with tension and aching with disappointment.

 

“I- I’m just going to wait outside,” Clarke stammered, spinning around and slamming the door shut. 

 

Anya chuckled, and a few moments later Raven joined in. She extracted her hand and smirked at Raven’s woeful sigh. 

 

“I better let you two talk,” Anya murmured.

 

“Yeah,” Raven looked glum.

 

Anya inhaled the scent of the girl before her. She was smart, sarcastic and gorgeous. Anya was going to be here for probably the next four years. What did she have to lose?

 

“Maybe the universe is telling us something,” She mused. 

 

Raven looked up in question. 

 

Anya stepped away and smirked. 

 

“Keep an eye on your phone, darling. I want to take you out.” She strode out of the room, lips twitching at Raven’s whispered ‘holy shit’.

 

As she passed Clarke in the hall, she winked at the beet red girl. “She’s free.”

 

She sighed when she exited the STEM building. It was time for a cold shower.

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



 

“Come in,” Raven called as Clarke watched in stunned silence as Anya left. 

 

She pushed the door open knowing she was still blushing. God. It wasn’t a bad thing, she knew. It was just, just - Anya. The girl was some kind of mysterious mother-slash-sister role model and seeing her kiss up to Raven (who was on the way to being a good friend) was just weird. And her hand  _ had  _ been in Raven’s jeans. 

 

Awkward.

 

Also; Anya had game and Clarke had pretty much fucked her only chance with Lexa. She was a bit bitter (a lot sad).

 

Of course, Raven was smiling like she had just won the lottery, even if their was an edge in her eyes. Clarke felt a bit bad for interrupting them.

 

“Let’s not talk about it,” Clarke rushed out. 

 

Raven laughed, “Sure. Now, what do you want?”

 

Clarke sighed. This was the hard part. She hopped up onto the counter next to Raven, trying to ignore what had almost happened there moments ago, and started talking. 

 

“I can’t tell you everything yet,” God, this went against everything she believed in.

 

_ Secrets, secrets, secrets. _

 

“But maybe, soon, if I can trust you,” Clarke looked at the brunette, taking in her suddenly serious expression. 

 

“Well, colour me intrigued. What is it, Clareky?” The girl was curious. 

 

“It’s illegal, and dangerous.” Clarke started. 

 

Raven grinned expectantly. 

 

Clarke took in a deep breath. “I can give you the resources, the contacts, even money if you need -” She was cut off. 

 

“Spit it out, blondie,” Raven teased. 

 

At least she wasn’t concerned with the legality thing. 

 

“I want you to hack into the Skaikru network,” Clarke bit her lip, watching Raven’s reaction carefully.

 

The girl jolted as if she had been burned, memories flying to the surface of her mind unbidden. 

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



 

_ “She’s a tech genius,” Her mother argued.  _

 

_ “Perfect for your line of work. That’s not enough! Especially not when I payed for her upkeep the last decade” The woman was slurring now, and Raven was afraid. _

 

_ Raven watched the news. She knew that Skaikru was a dangerous gang that lacked the honour of Trikru or the consistency of Azgeda. She knew once you were in you were never getting out. She knew that most of the politicians lived in one gang or another’s back pocket. _

 

_ “Fine,” The large man gruffed.  _

 

_ “10K. Last offer, or we kill you and take the girl anyways.”  _

 

_ “That is acceptable,” Her mother tipped her nose up, as if she was prim and proper.  _

 

_ Raven wanted to scream, cry, run away. The hair raised on the back of her neck and she was sweating. She blinked hard against the stinging in her eyes. _

 

_ She didn’t want to be owned.  _

 

_ “I’ll be ready to do the exchange tomorrow night. I’ll even throw in a suitcase of her belongings, for free.” The man left after her mother’s last sentence.  _

 

_ The cold women turned to her daughter. “Go to bed.” _

 

_ Raven fled up the rickety stairs, ignoring the grease and blood stains and the leaky roof that croaked under the torrential downpour. _

 

_ Her breathing was harsh. She had to do something. _

 

_ She snatched her backpack out the cupboard and shoved everything she could in there. Finn’s family had moved interstate recently, to D.C. but she could find them. She pulled her small savings out of the hole in her bed and stuffed it in the pocket in her jacket. Pulling the hood up, she quietly opened the window, carefully scaling down the tree next to it.  _

 

_ Raven escaped into the night, her small body struggling in the wintry weather and her lungs straining for breath as she headed for the train station.  _

 

_ If her tears mixed with the rain on her face, she didn’t acknowledge it. _

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



 

“No,” She rasped, holding a hand up to stop Clarke’s questions. 

She didn’t want to become entwined with Skaikru. Truly. It may seem like she was hot on their gossip trail, but really it was just an old habit. When she first found Finn she’d listen to anything about Skaikru, in case they were closing in on her. She never broke the habit and her friends happened to enjoy it.

 

Finn. She hadn’t seen him in a year. 

 

Clarke exhaled next to her and she remembered the blonde was there. Her mind was racing, looking at all the possibilities. 

 

It could end so badly. But if she got to get revenge on the people who had been giving her nightmares for the last nine years… 

 

“Why?” It was a simple question but it held so much weight.

 

The pause was even heavier, before Clarke spoke again. 

 

“Because I want to destroy them.”

 

  * ❖◆❖••❖◆❖•



  
  


Lexa rubbed her temples. So much was going on, and she had the feeling Skaikru were up to something. There were too many variables. 

 

Plus, she needed to know about Clarke, She was hoping the girl would tell the truth of who she was soon. Upon entering Trikru Octavia;s only condition had been that Trikru never asked her to harm or reveal Wanheda. Lexa had agreed. 

 

But that didn’t mean that she didn’t need Octavia now. If her reaction revealed Clarke, then that was her problem (Lexa ignored the twinge of guilt, because she was Heda and she needed her warrior at her side for whatever battle was on the horizon). Octavia understood Skaikru and their movements better than anyone else. 

 

Lexa picked up her burner phone and called the number in its contacts. It picked up after two rings. All of Trikru knew to answer Heda’s call.

  
“I want you here, at the University.Your skill set is needed. You have two weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope u enjoyed. Very excited for Ranya. My goal is for everyone who read this far to comment :P (Can we do it?) 
> 
> Lol, anyways. 
> 
> If you are not already following my tumblr you can find me at: running--with--stars
> 
> It's a good idea, trust me! Lmao - reasons why you should: Asks! Prompts! Sneak Peaks! Maybe even the occasional drabble from my fics :P
> 
> Speaking of fics, if you haven't already seen my other fic, give it a try if you want :) Witches and demons and magic, oh my. It's called Don't Glance Under the Bed My Love. 
> 
> If I was a sim, asks and comments would fufil my social need ;)
> 
> Cheers and thx for reading, hope u enjoyed it. The plot is finally thickening. Sorry if there are any mistakes, I have no beta and I'm to lazy to edit. And once again, did it seem rushed? Is the plot moving to quickly? Is clexa moving to quickly? And Ranya? I want to know how u guys feel :D
> 
> P.S. This is about as smutty as it gets atm. I'm still only young lol, unlike some of u other writers (u know who u are ;P)


	9. question

Heyyyy

I know there is still a lot of interest in this story but it's been sitting a bit stale in my documents

I do want to get back into it though, so my question is:

Would you (the readers) rather I continue writing it as is, or rewrite from the start ? (it is a bit rough, this is one of my first romances lmao)

please let me know :D


	10. okay so what's happening is..

Thank you all for your responses :)

I have two weeks of school holidays coming up and I'm going to try and rewrite it then, but it won't be very conventional. 

I am going to attempt to rewrite it but not change direction/plot/story line. So for all you long time readers, if you really wanted to you could just skim the new version. I will put all the new/update chapters online at once, and include a link here. 

It's just a bit to jerky, so I'm going to fill it out in places, polish it, etc. I will be keeping heaps of chunks of information/writing from the original as well and the idea will stay the same. I just need to make it smoother.

I also want the cuddly anya/clarke BROTP but with a better background etc... I also want to make my slow burn more slow burn. 

IMPORTANT: In the interim, I will be accepting any prompts for 1000 word one shots (that I like and won't be spoilery - so maybe don't ask about the future. I might refuse them if I don't like the idea/aren't feeling the vibe). The best place to send these is to either put them here, or even better, send them to my tumblr. 

I will start a new fic for both the rewrite and the oneshots and put them in a series with this one. I will keep the old version available if people want it :D

Let me know how you feel:)

td;lr - I will be rewriting but with the same idea/plot and a lot of the same writing. Gotta bulk it up. Oneshots!


	11. update thing :) pls read

Hey guys! Sorry for the long time no see...

 

I've really been struggling with my school and work load at the moment which has taken so much of my time. In addition, I have been struggling with a lot of personal issues that I have not yet worked up the courage to address. I've finaly admitted to myself that I need to see a psychologist, and am now just trying to work up the nerve to do it.

 

Writing is an amazing outlet for me, and I am so glad you enjoy it. I am working on both my stories still. **MMTT rewrite is well underway... and it's going to be fucking huge.**

 

Seriosuly.  I haven't even finished chapter one and I have hit almost 7K words. I'm not really sure what direction this will take in relation to how dark it is - like I said, writing is an outlet for me. It's one of the reasons this story means so much to me.

I will be pushing out the next DGUTBML chapter pretty soon in the interim. 

 

Thank you for your kind words and patience <3

 

~stars

**Author's Note:**

> Please be gentle, this fic means a lot to me. Commentary always welcome. Let me know if you want me to continue.
> 
> Not edited. I own nothing.


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